


Alchemist's Lullaby

by Glittering_Darmallon



Series: Of Love and Alchemy [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Asala-taar, Blue Hawke, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit for scene in last chapter only, Fanmix, Fix-It of Sorts, Hawke and Fenris talked though their issues, Hawke is a subby bottom, Hawke is technically a mage, Hawke totally has a voice kink, M/M, Non default Hawke, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Panic Attacks, because they're adults damn it, but he sucks at magic so lives his life as a rogue, instead of ignoring each other for 3 yrs, who is a tiny ball of chaos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-17 10:49:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15459693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glittering_Darmallon/pseuds/Glittering_Darmallon
Summary: Gabriel Hawke may have been born with magic, that didn't mean he was born with enough magic to be useful. Rather than fuss about this, he honed his skills elsewhere. Knives and daggers, hiding in dark corners, but the poisons and grenades were where he really shined. And all was well, that is until Kirkwall and one elven former slave.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the WIP Big Bang 2018,  
> Banner and art in chapter 11 by me, art in chapter 4 by [Kieranfae](https://kieranfae.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Soundtrack for fic on  
> [Youtube](https://youtu.be/5vjHO7p8UAA)  
> Or [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/augopher42/playlist/7ENphPZWlSCR3QFVeYDlel?si=_9WDbyh_QPyAGPa9jeJLzw)

 

 

 

Track Listing:

“Heavy Rescue”- Doomtree

 

 

“If they were really trying to take you back into slavery, then I am glad I helped.” The obvious come-hither in his words as he spoke them was almost enough to make Gabriel smack himself in the forehead...almost. _Fine time to flirt, Gabriel. Nothing sets the mood like a dozen dead bodies and blood on your armor_ . Before he could find the nearest wall to bang his head upon, the man-- _Fenris, he said his name was Fenris. If you’d been listening to his words instead of being wrapped up in the sound of his voice, you’d know that._ There would be time for self-flagellation later--interrupted his thoughts.

 

One of Fenris’ dark eyebrows rose as he eyed Gabriel with suspicion. “Pardon my incredulity. I have met few people who weren’t only looking out for themselves.” With a world-weary sigh, Fenris changed the subject, “The chest, what was in it?”

 

Gabriel felt as though he was about to kick a drowned kitten. “Nothing.”

 

The already slouched shoulders of Fenris’ posture sagged further. “I was foolish to get my hopes up. It seems it was nothing more than bait.”

 

Was it too soon for Gabriel to want to wrap Fenris up in a warm blanket, give him a cup of tea and hug all his problems away? Perhaps, but he doubted it. In the back of his mind, he could hear his mother chastising him. ‘ _Gabe, darling, why can’t you ever find someone nice?_ ’ Well, she’d say why couldn’t he find a nice girl, because she didn’t know about his predilection for the sterner sex. Or at least he thought she didn’t. That, however, was neither here nor there right now.

 

What was both here and there in this moment was the way his mind was acting like a traitor. Total traitor.

 

Gabriel watched, a thousand thoughts caught on his tongue as Fenris crouched down to search the dead captain. For what, he could not be sure. Several moments of tense silence ticked by, and he was about to turn heel when that enticing voice cut through once more.

 

“I thought as much. My former master, the vile excuse for a human, has journeyed with them to the city. I am sure you have questions, and I will answer all of them, but I must head him off before he has a chance to flee. I refuse to cower in fear knowing he remains out there. Danarius wants to skin me alive, has sent enough hunters after me that I have lost count. When I was still under his control, he kept me on a leash like a pet hound,” Fenris shuddered. Clearly, the admission had more meaning than what lay on the surface. “I am not used...to asking for help, but please, he will never stop hunting me if I don’t get to him first. I could use your help.”

 

The words were out of Gabriel’s mouth before he could even think. “I’m always up for fighting slavers.”

 

Much to his surprise, Carver chimed in, “Me too.”

 

***

“Are you sure this is the right address?” Carver asked as they made their way through Hightown in search of some mansion, inside which, Fenris assured them, would be this Danarius guy he was after. “I mean, what type of slavers would stay in Hightown? A little on the conspicuous side, don’t you think?”

 

Beside him, Varric chuckled. “Perhaps he has a delicate nose and the smell of fish upsets him. You know how nobility can be. I suspect it’s why they avoid The Hanged Man.”

 

Gabriel groaned. “No, I think they avoid The Hanged Man because of the piss-water masquerading as ale. I know I would if I had the coin.”

 

Varric covered his heart in mock insult. “Serrah, you wound me.”

 

“No one has left the mansion…”

 

Startled, Gabriel followed the sound of Fenris’ voice to find him standing, leaning up against the wall. His whole ‘Devil May Care’ demeanor drew Gabriel in like he’d been hit with a Pull of the Abyss spell. His father had always been adept at force magic. So, too, had Bethany. Often, Gabriel had wondered, yearned, even to be as strong at it as they were to forge a deeper connection to them. Alas.

 

He was just not that sort of mage.

 

The motley of flasks and grenades clinked together from their places on his belt. Everyone had something they were good at, his mother always said. Carver could swing a sword like no one’s business. Bethany could sling fireballs with such gusto, it surprised even Father. But _him_? Well, there was a reason he used his magic only as a last resort, a reason he never bothered to patronize potion or poison stalls around town for anything other than healing flasks. And that reason jangled with his every step.

 

Had he gone to a circle, he supposed they would have made him tranquil before even running him through the Harrowing as if there was only one way to defeat demons. Sometimes it took only a quick mind to recognize the problem and come up with a better solution. If his magic wasn’t strong enough, there were always plenty of sticks in the Fade...or rocks. And if that failed, well, he could just dream up some explosives and then blow them up.

 

Actually, come to think of it, he would have used explosives as plan A. Grenades were _always_ his plan A. Flask or grenade, stealth powder, then run in knives blazing. Honestly, mage circles around Thedas were doing their mages a great disservice by not teaching them to fight with something other than magic.

 

“Lead the way,” Gabriel said, gesturing to the door.

 

***

“It’s never-ending. I fled a land ruled by magic only to have it nipping at my heels, haunting me no matter where I go. I saw you inside. I should have realized sooner what you were.”

 

Carver opened his mouth to speak in his brother’s defense, but Gabriel shook his head to cut him off. “That’s right. You saw one spell, a single little spell. The Telekinetic Burst I cast just to get some breathing room. You no doubt saw the rage demons surrounding me? A bit hard to stab them all when you can’t move your arms. Look, I get it. You have a terrible history with mages. But... I’m not even a good mage.”

 

“It’s true. He’s rubbish.” _Damn it, Carver. Couldn’t you keep your mouth shut for once?_

 

“My point is. I only use magic if nothing else is working. I don’t...like using it, to be honest. It doesn’t suit me. Surely I cannot be the only mage in history that would rather play with alchemy and jab an enemy with a dagger.”

 

Fenris’s eyebrows rose high on his head. "That is ...most surprising. And all those,” he pointed to the remaining three flasks on Gabriel’s belt, “are your creations?”

 

“Well I don’t make health potions. I’ve tried. I haven’t quite got that one right yet. Best not leave it to chance.” He plucked a grenade from its resting spot. “This one is my own recipe. I don’t share it with anyone. May I show you how it works? It...well,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “does involve a tiny amount of magic to charge it.”

 

Fenris held up a hand and stopped him. “Maybe some other time. Look, it’s not that I am ungrateful. I know there are mages in the world with pure intentions. It is hard for me to separate the good from the bad. I apologize. Nothing could be farther from the truth.” He placed a bag of coin in Gabriel’s hand. “If you find yourself requiring another sword, I will gladly offer my assistance.”

 

“You know...we’re planning a trip into the Deep Roads soon. We might have a use for you. May I ask, why was Danarius after you? It is a lot of effort for one slave.”

 

Fenris scowled. “He doesn’t want me at all. Just the lyrium he used to make these markings, even if he must flay me.”

 

“Seems like a waste of a perfectly handsome elf...er man, perfectly handsome man. You are more than just an elf. Wait… that came out all wrong. I mean that seems like a waste of a perfectly capable soldier.”

 

Behind him, he heard Varric snicker and mutter, “Andraste’s ass you are bad at this, Hawke.”

 

“What do you expect, Varric? He’s only twenty-one, and I can count on one hand how many times he’s flirted before.”

 

“That you know of,” Gabriel grumbled. He wanted to crawl into the deepest, darkest hole he could find. In fact, he was about to do just that when he heard Fenris’ soft chuckle, saw the glorious yet tiny hint of a smile and resolved to make him do both (laugh and smile that is) as often as possible, even if that meant at Gabriel’s expense.

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear Bethany call him an idiot the way she always had whenever he’d tried to flirt back home in Lothering. A failure- it was always a failure, though strangely enough, a couple boys found his bumbling charming. The memory of his sister made his heart pang with grief that he choked back under the guise of clearing his throat.

 

They bid Fenris farewell, and the three of them made their way back to Lowtown, but not before Gabriel spared a glance back over at his shoulder to watch Fenris leave back into the house. Then, Gabriel promptly walked into a wall.

 

***

 

“I just don’t understand, Gabriel,” his mother said as she tended to his injury, “how did you manage to break your nose without getting into a fight?”

 

“Oh no, Mother. I definitely got into a fight, and then once the fight was over, I broke my nose.” His words came out in a comically nasally tone thanks to the wads of cloth in his nostrils. “If I told you I might have been looking at a pretty face, you’d believe me right?”

 

From the bedroom the two of them shared, Carver called out, cackling as he did so, “It wasn’t a pretty face. More like watching a rear end in tight leathers.”

 

“You are a traitor, Carver, and I hate you.”

 

This bit of information seemed to pique his mother’s interest. “Oh? A pretty face you said? Care to indulge an old woman?” She snapped his nose back into place.

 

“Maker’s balls!” He forgot how badly it hurt to set a bone without magic. Father had always been good at that. A flask appeared in his field of vision.

 

“Here. There are a couple swills of whiskey left in it.”

 

He graciously took the container from Carver. “Thank you.”

 

“It’s not good whiskey. Just that sh- stuff they sell in the Hanged Man, but it should dull the pain at least a little.”

 

His mother gave his knee a playful swat. “Go on. Tell me. You can’t stay a bachelor forever.”

 

“Lovely eyes, green, bright and clear. Great voice,” he sighed in bliss. “I could listen to it for days on end. Yes, please keep talking to me, beautiful, and not stop.” He took a deep breath and cleared his throat. “Strong.”

 

“Nothing wrong with a strong woman. Look at Aveline.”

 

“Mother, Aveline is a little too old for me I think.”

 

His mother’s lilting laughter filled the room. “I wasn’t suggesting that.”

 

“Tawny skin, little lighter than mine. More like Father’s was. But I mean, it was just a brief encounter.” He paused, knowing Carver could hear him and would say something. “Not like that, Carver! You know what I mean. Like a short interaction with a shopkeeper.”

 

_Yes, go ahead and downplay it as though you haven’t been drawing imaginary hearts all over your journal with his name in them._

 

Gabriel rose from his chair. “Not much else to say.”

 

Total lie, but his mother did not need to know the things his mind was imagining- especially not how much he wanted to know how his name would sound on Fenris’ lips in the throes of ecstasy. No. Best not to let her know anything else. “I’m really tired, Mother. Sorry for keeping you up so late...and for getting blood on your shoes. Noses, why do they bleed so much when you bang them on things?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

Track Listing:

         Scene 2: “Charge Up the Power”- Goodbye June

 

‘“So you’re staying?” Gabriel shifted in his seat, finding it difficult to maintain eye contact with Fenris now it was just the two of them. Maker, he was beautiful.

 

“If given a good reason.”

 

_I could be your good reason. I am a great catch. Ask anyone... except Carver. Don’t ask him. He lies._

 

Rather than say exactly what was on his mind, Gabriel gave a soft smile. “Well, if you find that reason, I would be honored to have to join us on our adventures.”

 

Fenris’ small chuckle echoed in the otherwise silent room, the only other sound (well besides the blood pounding in Gabriel’s ears which he doubted Fenris could hear, enhanced elf hearing be damned) the crackling of the fire as it cast lovely shadows on the tiled floor. “Is that what you’re calling them?”

 

“Why not? You don’t think returning a pair of pants to a dwarf counts as an adventure?”

 

“Perhaps our definitions differ.” He took a swig from his wine bottle. “Aggregio Pavali. Found it in the cellar. I should _hate_ the stuff given how often I had to serve it to Danarius and his ‘friends’, but I cannot deny quality.” He chucked the bottle at the wall, and Gabriel flinched as it shattered.

 

“But what if I wanted some?”

 

Fenris gestured over his shoulder, “There’s half a case down there if you’d really like some.”

 

Gabriel stood up and poked his foot at the seemingly empty bottles strewn about the floor, before he, too picked up a couple and threw one at the opposing wall. “No, I think this is way more enjoyable.” He offered the second one to Fenris. “Want another go?”

 

“Don’t mind if I do.”

 

As he handed the bottle to him, their fingers brushed against each other for the briefest of seconds, but that was enough to send Gabriel’s heart hammering in his chest.

 

“You know, Hawke, I think joining your adventures will be quite exciting.”

 

Gabriel shrugged and gave him, what Carver would call a shit-eating grin. “Just you wait, we’ll be the best of friends before you know it.”

 

***

Fenris wiped the blood from his forehead with the back of his hand before charging, sword drawn, towards yet another Tal-Vashoth spearman. The whistle of the projectile as it flew past, mere inches from his left ear, rustled his hair. His blade knocked the man down first, and then Fenris followed with the killing blow.

 

From somewhere behind him he heard Varric shout, praising his crossbow for taking another bandit down. The way the man spoke to his weapon was a bit alarming. Fenris, for one, had never so much as said a word to any blade he carried. Perhaps that was the sort of unhealthy attachment one formed with a weapon specially made for them as opposed to one they plucked from a corpse.

 

The cavern in which the four of them, Hawke, Varric, and Isabela found themselves knee-deep in angry Tal-Vashoth, did not have as much lighting as he would like. Too dim, too loud, it made combat difficult and risky. To make matters worse, his markings cast a glow around him, further obscuring potential enemies. He could only hope is comrades in arms took heed and stayed away from him lest they end up at the wrong end of a greatsword.

 

After a long battle, Isabela finally took out the Saarebas that was making their lives miserable for the last ten minutes (the guy just wouldn’t die). All that remained now were foot soldiers. How Fenris managed to not take a spear to the face through the whole fight was beyond him. Daggers clanged as they struck armor, struck swords. The chug Bianca made when Varric pulled the trigger echoed around them.

 

Suddenly, from somewhere to his left, he heard Hawke shout in pain and then the whole cave crackled as lightning exploded around them, illuminating the space in an eerie purple glow. For several long, tense moments, that buzz of static was all Fenris could hear, but when the commotion died down, he chanced a glance behind him, almost certain he’d see Hawke’s broken body lying dead of the cavern floor.

 

What he saw, was anything but a broken body. Sure there was a slash to Hawke’s arm, but it didn’t appear life-threatening. Instead, Fenris saw him kneeling encircled by the bodies of at least a dozen Tal-Vashoth, all of them sporting blackened scorch marks to their otherwise gray flesh. Hawke panted, clearly in pain.

 

“Gotta say, Hawke. I didn’t think you had _that_ in your bag of tricks. Forget the Deep Roads. You need to market that concoction. You’d make a killing selling that to the Carta.”

 

Hawke gave a weary sigh. “Oh that. No. I think I will keep it to myself. It’s too effective to give to an organized crime group.”

 

Before he knew what he was doing, Fenris had offered a hand to him and helped him to his feet. The slight shock that came when skin met skin was the same as when he touched a doorknob after walking on carpet in dry weather, only stronger. “What _was_ that?”

 

He leaned on him for support (it was only then that Fenris saw the gash on his calf) and plucked a glass flask from his belt. He held it in the palm of his hand, and within seconds the contents inside began to arc with electricity. “I call it Lighting in a Bottle. It’s the grenade I spoke of when we first met. The one I need to charge with magic. I’m no good at spells. I’m not, but this I _can_ do, and proficiently at that. I always had a mind for experimenting.”

 

Fenris was torn between being wary and being impressed. On the one hand, it was a powerful grenade and useful tool in Hawke’s arsenal. On the other...he was still a mage.

 

“Don’t look at me like that.”

 

“Like what?” Fenris feigned ignorance.

 

“Like you’re trying to decide whether I’m dangerous or not.”

 

“You are dangerous.”

 

“Oh chin up, Elf,” Varric interrupted, “have you looked at yourself lately. We’re all dangerous.”

 

“But he’s still a mage. It’s...difficult for me, Hawke. It’s nothing personal.” To Fenris’ surprise, Hawke bumped shoulders with him.

 

“Don’t worry about it. I understand. You’ve had a lifetime of bad experience with mages.”

 

“Okay, I have to know. Why were you kneeling? Wouldn’t that leave you vulnerable to attack?” Isabela asked

 

“Grounding myself. Usually, I am not standing in the middle of that mess when I use the grenade. I wasn’t sure if I would shock myself if I remained standing. And well,” he gestured to the corpses on the ground, “you see how it went for those standing in the arc.”

 

Their way out of the cave was slow-going thanks to Hawke’s injury, and strangely, for all his talk about him being dangerous, Fenris felt no hint of fear as he supported Hawke’s weight as he limped along. Not even the slightest hint of apprehension at their close contact. Perhaps it had something to do with the man himself. Fenris had seen him go out of his way to help people, to return lost items to their rightful owners rather than fencing it to a merchant along the way. Beside him was a mage, one who seldom used his magic, but a mage nonetheless, and Fenris couldn’t bring it upon himself to feel the danger he’d railed about only minutes earlier. Perhaps, at some point, he’d quit seeing Hawke as a mage, and saw him now only as a person.

“I apologize, Hawke if I’ve been unkind in my words about your skills.”

 

“Gabriel.”

 

“What?”

 

“That’s my name. I don’t know when I became only my family name to everyone.”

 

Ahead of them, Varric cackled. “You owe me three sovereigns, Rivaini.”

 

“Why? What for?” Haw- Gabriel asked.

 

“Oh we had a bet with Blondie whether your name was something dreadfully Ferelden or not. She,” he gestured a thumb in Isabela’s direction, “was certain your name was Clarence. Blondie was sure it was something ridiculous and Orlesian.”

 

“And you didn’t? What did you think it was?”

 

“No. I didn’t know either way. I just bet they were wrong. And here we are. Pay up, Rivaini.”

 

***

 

“Ugh. Do you have to mix that shit in here?” Carver gagged as he fanned the air in front of him. “It smells like death.”

 

No matter how much he wanted to, rolling his eyes at his younger brother would only make things more difficult for Gabriel. Instead, he got up and packed his things, taking extra care with the small cauldron in which he’d already deposited his chopped corpse gall. Those damned, malformed organs of the undead were hard to find on his own and far too expensive to purchase from Tomwise; he didn’t want to spill a drop. “Well, Carver, that’s because it comes from walking corpses. What did you think it would smell like, roses?”

 

Scowling, Carver knit his brows together. “Why in Andraste’s name would you need to make _anything_ from something you found in a dead body?”

 

Gabriel held up his index finger to stop any further complaining...and to correct his brother. “Wrong. It’s not just any dead body. It’s a _reanimated_ dead body. World of difference.”

 

“You’re impossible.”

 

“Impossibly charming?” With a nonchalant wave of his hand and a dismissive eye-roll, Gabriel finally answered Carver’s question. “It’s a new grenade recipe I’m perfecting. It’s like that walking bomb spell Bethany used to love but in grenade form. It causes the victim to explode and send acidic ichor everywhere.”

 

Carver pinched the bridge of his nose. “How did I end up with a brother so damn weird?”

 

As he continued to pack up his things, Gabriel chuckled. “You say that now, but you are all too happy to coat your sword edge with one of my poisons.”

 

Once his pack had been filled with all the necessary notions and ingredients, he gave Carver a half-assed salute. “So long.”

 

“Wait, where are you going with that?”

 

“Wouldn’t you love to know?”

 

“Yes, which is why I asked.”

 

With naught but a cheeky grin, Gabriel closed the door behind him and made his way to Hightown.

 

***

 

Gabriel knocked on Fenris’ door then promptly walked in without waiting for a reply. “Fenny Fen Fen Fen, guess what day it is!” His voice echoed in the main hall of Danarius’ abandoned mansion, and while he waited for its current occupant to make an entrance, he set down his small cauldron and bag of supplies, the myriad flasks jangling in his pack.

 

“A day when there are no more mages? Present company excepted of course.”

 

Gabriel held up a finger, halting any other guesses, “No, ‘m afraid not. First things first, Fenser. Which room in this place do you like the least? And by that I mean where do you spend the least amount of time? Or incidentally, which room did the most people die in?”

 

Fenris’ brows dipped into a deep furrow as though he were trying to parse out what Gabriel could possibly need to know that for. “I guess...the dining room. I just eat in my room by the fire usually. Not sure about the number of deaths though.”

 

“Fantastic. Because, trust me, after today you will want to spend even less time in there.” He picked up his goods.

 

“Why?”

 

“Follow me, my friend. I have been kicked out of Gamlen’s for the time being and have been told to brew my grenades and potions elsewhere. So...surprise. It’s your lucky day. You get to learn to make Walking Death, my latest concoction. Beware it smells just as its name implies.”

 

Fenris’ face scrunched up in disgust. “Least you could do is open a window.”

 

“Oh yes, let the smell of corpses waft into your neighbor’s yards. What a delightful idea! I like your thinking.”

 

Once in the dining room, Gabriel began to ready his station, setting out each ingredient in its proper place. Fenris took his time joining him, but once he did, walked to the long table and picked up a corked, earthenware, jar. “What makes you think I will be any good at this?”

 

Gabriel turned to him and hovered his hand about Fenris’ shoulder, making a patting motion, but never touching him. The exaggerated action drew a tiny grin from Fenris, and that itself was enough to make the trip to Hightown worth it tenfold. “Because for one? You have great discipline. You’re cautious which means that, unlike Carver, you won’t go randomly messing with ingredients, opening all the bottles and screwing shit up all in the name of curiosity. This will be good for you. It’s a skill, a marketable one. If you turn out to be as excellent an assistant as I think you will be, we could go into business together.”

 

Fenris halted in his tracks, mouth agape and eyes wide. “You would want to work with _me_? Why?”

 

Without missing a beat, Gabriel replied, “Because I enjoy your company, you’re my friend, and I trust you.”

 

“Oh. I...thank you.” He cleared his throat and gestured to the table. “What would you like me to do?”

 

“First things first,” he dug in his bag, pulling out a bandana. “You’ll want to tie this around your mouth and nose. I don’t want you breathing in the fumes. There is an extra pair of gloves in my bag. I don’t think they’ll fit over your gauntlets. I’d feel terrible if you got hurt.” Once he was satisfied with Fenris’ makeshift mask, he turned to the spread in front of him. “If you could take the mortar, pestle, and that pouch there the one marked deathroot. I need you to measure two ounces. Chop it up and then grind it into a paste.”

 

He watched as Fenris scanned the various jars and bottles. “Which…”

 

“Oh, the purple one there. No, to your left. There we go. Once you have that done, add it to the cauldron.”

 

They settled into a companionable silence, working diligently side by side until the shadows of sunset began to creep into the room.

 

“You, Ser, are an excellent assistant. For your time, I leave you three vials of this to coat your blade with should you wish.”

 

Fenris shifted back and forth, fidgeting with his bare hands. Sensing his discomfort, Gabriel reached across the table and handed him back his armored gloves.

 

“Thank you, for teaching me, Haw- Gabriel. I enjoyed this,” he said, a faint blush blooming on the tips of his ears.

 

“Anytime. If you want to help me again, let me know. I can always use an extra pair of hands and a discerning nature.” When his stomach let out a loud gurgle, Gabriel cackled. “I was so engrossed in this I forgot lunch and now it’s dinnertime. Let’s see,” he dug in his pocket, “I have a few silvers. Least I can do for taking up your whole afternoon is feed you. Come, I know a stall in Lowtown that makes the best braised rabbit.”

  



	3. Chapter 3

 

Track Listing:

         Scenes 1 & 2: “Oats in the Water”- Ben Howard

         Scene 3: “Blame Me”- The Pretty Reckless

 

“Sweet Maker,” Carver groaned as he cupped a hand to his side.

 

Concerned, Gabriel hustled back to him, examining him for any visible injuries. “What happened? They didn’t cut you did they?”

 

“I’m fine,” he said waving his brother off, “just a pulled muscle.”

 

Gabriel was skeptical, but Carver was the soldier, not him; he would know whether an injury was serious. Or at least Gabriel hoped that was the case. Hell, he was surprised they all weren’t wounded to the Void and back with as long as they’d been stuck down in the Deep Roads.

 

Ahead of him, Varric grumbled about more blood on his coat and Anders whined for what felt like the hundredth time about how much he hated the Deep Roads. Honestly, though, at this point? Gabriel felt the same. If he never saw this place again, it would be too soon. He was hungry, their meager rations weren’t nearly enough to sate their appetites. And especially not someone as big as Carver. How his brother hadn’t killed them all in a hungry rage was beyond him.

 

 They walked, mostly silent, for no one had much to talk about at this point. Varric had clearly lost his patience for storytelling about two days ago...or was it three? How _did_ one keep track of days down here? Maybe he should make friends with recently surfaced dwarves and ask them.

 

“I can’t take it anymore,” Carver groaned as he stopped, and Gabriel’s protective older brother mode, or well his worry mode, went into high. Carver, however had the convenient timing to quell his concern. “No not me. _Him_ ,” he gesticulated ahead of him. “Would you just shut up already? Yes, we know, Anders. You hate the Deep Roads! I hate to break it to you, but by now we _all_ hate it down here!” His shoulders heaved. When Gabriel tried to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Carver rolled his eyes at him and quickened his pace.

 

Bringing up the rear was not a position he liked to be in, but given the party’s current talents, his and Carver’s jobs were to lead the pack and protect their backs. Far be it for him to merely suggest the idea that perhaps their grenadier should go first, lest he get into yet another argument with Carver. Yet Gabriel’s current position gave him time to observe and ponder.

 

Anders was clearly miserable. He’d only agreed to come because yes, he was a healer, and yes, he cared they all came back alive. Gabriel didn’t even want to bring his brother, especially not after hearing his mother’s pleading tone, but there was no denying Carver when he made up his mind, the stubborn grump he was.

 

Yet, Gabriel wished he’d brought Fenris along instead, though that might have been a terrible idea now that he thought about it seeing as Fenris and Anders got on like oil and water. But he’d certainly be more enjoyable to get stuck down here with than his brother. Simply put, Gabriel enjoyed Fenris’ company.  He found despite Fenris’ justifiable distrust of mages, that distrust didn’t seem to inhibit their budding friendship.

 

Not only was he witty with a biting, dry sense of humor, he had steady hands great for helping mix poisons and grenades. Cautious by both nature and nurture, Fenris had proven meticulous in measuring and mixing the concoctions. In fact, he was such a competent assistant, Gabriel had taken to meeting at Fenris’ weekly to brew. He would never forget the look on Fenris’ face when Hawke dropped a small purse of coins in his palm. “ _Your share of the profits,”_ Gabriel had said. Tomwise had been thrilled to have new varieties of grenades to sell, and as such had no qualms about buying them from Gabriel at a fair price.

 

A screech off in the distance, shook him out of his thoughts. It was only then that Gabriel noticed the group had stilled, Anders holding up a concerned hand to keep them silent. Then, he pointed to a tunnel to the West of the fork in the passage and whispered, ‘Don’t go that way. Filled with ‘spawn and a few ogres.’

 

When they started walking again, choosing the right path, extra careful to tread softly, Gabriel couldn’t help but notice the change in his brother’s gait. He bumped shoulders with Carver, “Are you okay?” his whisper was nigh inaudible. Carver made a small shake of his head, and Gabriel gave him what he hoped was a comforting pat on the back.

 

Well comforting for Carver anyway.

 

_This is wrong. Something’s wrong. What if that wound is worse than he let on? What if he’s been bleeding under his armor this whole time? Mother will blame you for it no matter what happens. It is your fault you know, bringing Carver here. What if Anders was wrong about where the darkspawn are? Carver is in no position to defend himself, and you are no good at defending anyone. Look what happened to Bethany._

 

Gabriel raked his fingernails across his scalp in an attempt to drive out his negative thoughts. Once, his father had called him, ‘his little anxious ant.’ He’d ruffled Gabriel’s hair as though it was just that simple. It never was. Believe him, if he could just stop worrying about all the ways _everything_ could go wrong, he would. He hated it.

 

“Hold up,” Anders whispered. “Go that way.” This time, given the amount of Darkspawn nearby, Anders took point no doubt to try and sense the danger before they walked into a horde. Ahead of them, about a hundred meters down the tunnel, Gabriel saw the now telltale orange glow he’d come to associate with the light sources down here. _Maker, please don’t let it be another dragon._ Carver was the only warrior with them and was in no condition to fight at the moment. They’d be dead for sure.

 

When finally they reached the light and subsequent clearing, Gabriel breathed a sigh of relief to see a familiar area.

 

“Yes, fantastic. This, I remember this,” Varric grinned.

 

Gabriel clapped him on the back, “Me too. We’re in the home stretch.”

 

“And with all this loot. We’re going to be rich. Very rich indeed.”

 

“Could we stop,” Carver started, two steps behind Gabriel, his voice raspy and broken, “I think I need to rest. I feel like me...but also not like me.”

 

Gabriel turned around to see Carver drop to his knees. He rushed over just in time to catch his brother’s head before it hit the ground.

 

“I told you not to eat those mushrooms,” Varric muttered.

It was then, that Carver turned his head slightly and gave Gabriel a clear view of his neck. Long dark lines tracked down his throat underneath his skin just like…

 

Anders spoke up, “It’s the taint. I feel it in him.”

 

“Just like Wesley. I’m going to die down here, no one will ever remember me. I should have listened to you and mother. Stayed behind.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Gabriel’s worried and panicked voice echoed off the cave walls.

 

“I really did think it was a pulled muscle.”

 

“These maps, I stole them from another Warden. Turns out he _wasn’t_ looking for me. But I remember they would be passing through here. It’s worth a try. See if they’d consider Carver.”

 

***

 

“Anders, surely you know we do not recruit Wardens out of charity,” the Orlesian Warden, Stroud, Gabriel thought he heard Anders call him, said.

 

Beside Gabriel, Anders plead his case, “This wouldn’t be a charity, Stroud. Carver is a fine warrior, full of potential. He’s fought many darkspawn. He’s-”

 

“A Fifth Blight veteran!” Gabriel interrupted. “He fought at Ostagar. We both did. We had to pry Carver away from the battle when it was clear there would be no victory! We stayed fighting along you Wardens for as long as possible, even after the King’s death, after Loghain’s betrayal. Carver would have given his life right alongside the Wardens if Varnel hadn’t ordered our retreat.”

 

“You’d be a fool to pass on this young man, Stroud.”

 

Stroud rubbed his chin, apparently deep in thought. “Ostagar you say?”

 

“Yes, Ser. I remember the beacon at Ishal going up and no help coming. We stayed and fought,” Carver groaned, “we didn’t run. We stayed.”

 

“You know,” Stroud said, “if you come with us, this life you have now is over, and not all recruits survive the joining.”

 

Carver coughed. “I’m dying anyway.”

 

Stroud nodded, and one of the Wardens with him draped Carver’s arm around his shoulder to assist him in walking.

 

“Bye, Gabriel. Take care of Mother.”

 

“I will.”

 

***

 

Gabriel heaved a weary breath and leaned against the wall at the bottom of the steps which led up to Gamlen’s house. “I can’t go in there. I can’t face that look on my mother’s face again.”

 

“I’d say cheer up, Hawke, but I don’t think that will to help,” Varric said, mimicking Gabriel’s position and bumping shoulders with him. Or well Varric bumped _his_ shoulder into Gabriel’s side. “So how about this? Look at the bright side, you gave him a chance to live.”

 

Remaining tight-lipped for as long as he could, Gabriel finally broke, with a chuckle. “I didn’t even want to bring him. My mom begged me not to take him. I said I wouldn’t and Carver, like the stubborn ass he is, insisted he was not a child, and I couldn’t stop him from coming along. _This_ is all his fault.”

 

Gabriel practically melted when Varric once more bumped into his side, this time remaining there instead of backing away. It was almost like a silent statement of, ‘ _You can hug me if you want.’_ “You know she blamed me? Those were the first words she said to me after that ogre killed Bethany. That it was my fault for letting her rush to fight the ogre. I was surrounded by darkspawn, thought I was going to die right then. I didn’t even see Bethany go after the ogre, didn’t know until I saw her lying there lifeless on the dirt. Hell, Carver blamed me too.” He barked out a wet laugh and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I know she was just grieving and lashing out. I understand, but those words stick with you, you know? I have replayed that moment hundreds of times in my mind looking for some way that I could have stopped her, but there’s nothing. Now? I’m terrified that when I walk through that door without Carver she’s going to do the same thing, that I will have let my family down again.”

 

“Hawke,” Varric sighed and then shifted so he could hug him, “you said it yourself, Carver was going to come whether you said no or not. Want me...want me to go in with you?”

 

Gabriel straightened, “No,” and then immediately sagged, “yes.”

 

As they walked up the stairs, Hawke’s feet were made of bricks, several tons of them if was being honest with himself. Not even Varric’s gentle but firm hand on his back guiding him (more like pushing) up the stairs made him move faster. In his head, he rehearsed what he would say. Would he go with humor, ‘I have good news and bad news mother. Good news, we’re rich. Bad news, Carver joined the Grey Wardens.’? No, that would be too insensitive. ‘Remember how I tried to leave Carver behind and he refused? Well turns out he caught the blight, but don’t worry, because you know that Anders guy I met? Turns out he’s a Warden. Long story short, Carver’s a Warden now. He sends his love.’ Somehow, he thought that wouldn’t go over well.

 

However, it turned out that he needed none of those words, because his mother took one look at his face and broke down into tears. At least he was honest in his answer to her question if Carver was ever coming back. ‘I don’t know,’ left a bit of hope lingering in the air.

 

Gabriel gave Varric a thankful nod as he walked back out the front door mere moments after they’d entered.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

 

Track Listing:

Scenes 1-3: “All I Want”- Echos

Scenes 4-5: “Like a Stone (unplugged)”- Chris Cornell

 

Fenris straightened in his chair at Gabriel’s proximity as he leaned over to point out each letter. “I know these combinations of letters to one sound can be tricky. I believe in you.”

 

A strange sensation blossomed in his chest, one that Fenris had not felt in a long time: Pride. “S-ha-ir?”

 

Gabriel gave him a tiny smile. “Here, I will give you a hint. There are six of them in this room.”

 

“What? Why the game?”

 

“Because I don’t want to just give you the answer, and somehow I don’t think you would want me to.”

 

Fenris’ eyes scanned the room. It couldn’t be books. There were more than six. And there were more than six logs stacked by the fire. Only four windows. But one, two, three….six… “Chair?”

 

He wished he were a painter so he could capture the way Gabriel’s face lit up at that moment as though the sun shone through him; he beamed. Fenris couldn’t help but feel proud, even if his heart did a little flip-flop in his chest.

 

“Great job. Can you read the whole sentence now? Listen to me… 'Can you?' What am I saying? Of course you can.”

 

“The dog sits by the cha-”

 

“Hawke!” 

 

Gabriel’s eye roll and groan managed to be both humorous and endearing. “Aveline, to what do I owe the pleasure,” he called from the study loudly enough she was sure to hear him. 

 

Not even a moment later, that familiar stance and red hair walked into the room. “So, remember Emeri- Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company. I-”

 

Fenris waited, sure that Gabriel would tell her it was no trouble, but instead, he swore the guy was seething with rage. Why would he be so angry? Rather than let him stew, Fenris answered, “It’s no trouble. We were just working on a lesson.”

 

Aveline gave a warm smile. “How is that going for you?”

 

“It is difficult; I won’t lie, but it will be good to no longer be at a disadvantage among the literate.”

 

Fenris pinpointed the exact moment Gabriel regained his composure because his stiff posture softened; the warmth returned to his eyes.

“Yes, Emeric. What about him?”

 

She rubbed her forehead. “He’s been a thorn in my side. He is convinced every murder is somehow connected lately. And he’s found what I can only call a scapegoat because there isn’t a shred of evidence to implicate the man. We had to issue the poor man a public apology after we searched his home.”

 

“Emeric can’t be that far off-base. I remember he had promising information before.”

 

“Oh, you do? Good. He can be your problem then. Please, please take him off my hands.”

 

With a weary sigh, Aveline was gone.

 

“I think that is enough for today. You are making good progress.”

 

Fenris scoffed. “You are only saying that because I’m your friend.”

 

Gabriel held the study door open for him as they walked out into the main living area. “You forgot because you are handsome, funny, and smart.”

 

Fenris stopped and rose a brow at him. “Oh am I?”

 

“You don’t think you’re funny?” he asked with an impish grin pulling at the corners of his lips, a gleam in his eyes that could rival any trickster god. As such, there was no fighting the flush that bloomed on Fenris’ cheeks, the tips of his ears, or the back of his neck. Gabriel wasn’t the first person to find him attractive. Fenris knew how some humans felt about elves, considered them beautiful but not beautiful enough to treat them as people. 

 

Gabriel was not like that, at least not that Fenris could tell. “It’s not a compliment I have heard before. Usually, the adjective they use is dour or grumpy.”

 

“More the fools they. They really are missing out on knowing someone as witty as you.” Maybe it was the firelight, but Fenris swore he could see Gabriel’s cheeks turn pink. Then, he cleared his throat in the way one did when they were caught red-handed so to speak. “Anyway, you are getting better. You’ll get it. You don’t seem like the type of person to give up. Hey, it’s a nice day, do you feel like a walk?”

 

***

 

The sky above gleamed in late evening hues of pink, orange, and yellow. As dusk slowly settled over them it painted the gardens in a soft light, Fenris couldn’t help but cast his eyes skyward to watch the last vestiges of daylight chase the horizon. Far enough from Lowtown that the nauseating smell of fish didn’t follow the sea breeze, the Viscount’s Gardens were heavy with a heavenly, floral fragrance.

 

It did not escape his notice, however, that since they’d left, Gabriel had said scarcely a word, and if he wasn’t so enamored with his surroundings, Fenris might have feared he’d said something wrong. Rather than ask what was on his mind, he went with the next question to pop into his head. “So, tell me, Gabriel, how did we get allowed in here. I thought these gardens were private.”

 

Gabriel’s soft chuckle cut any tension Fenris worried had grown between them. “They are. Why do you think I waited until dusk?” He tapped his belt and the lock-picking tools tucked into a small pouch on his hip. “Did you think I was fiddling with a key? Besides, I think Viscount Dumar owes me at least three favors by now. I like it better this way anyway, at night. It’s quieter, and it’s just us here. Do you...does it bother you that we’re not supposed to be here?”

 

Fenris shook his head, “Not at all. Look where I live. I can’t say I am supposed to be there either. I would just hate for you to go through all the trouble of breaking in here for me...not again anyway.”

 

“I don’t mind trouble, especially when it pertains to you. You deserve nice things, Fen.”

 

When Gabriel said things like that, it was difficult for Fenris’ to guess his true motives. Sure there was the light-hearted flirting that came his way, but then again, Gabriel was like that with all of them in their little group. Fenris couldn’t say it was the gifts because he gave all of them gifts as well. Teaching him to read? That right there was Gabriel being a good friend. But this? Surely Fenris wasn’t misinterpreting this, even with his limited experience.

 

“Oh, I do?”

 

He watched as Gabriel plucked a stark, white bloom from a nearby branch; its round petals spread out like a fan. To Fenris’ surprise, Gabriel held the bloom out to him.

 

“You absolutely do. Here, for you.”

 

“For me? A flower?” He held the bloom up to his nose and inhaled. He  _ knew _ this smell. There was no mistaking its tropical and fruity scent. “This grows in abundance in Seheron. I forget the name, but it…”

 

“La Speranza di Asha.”

 

“Asha’s Hope.”

 

“I keep forgetting you known Antivan. Do you like it?” Gabriel asked, his tone so earnest and sweet that Fenris would be loath to say anything other than yes even if it weren’t true. 

 

“I do. Thank you, Gabriel.” He felt the tips of his ears grow warm, but nonetheless, he tucked the stem of the bloom behind his ear. “What do you think? Does it suit me?”

 

 

Hawke merely nodded as though his tongue had tied itself in knots. Fenris understood; his own often felt that way around him lately. Perhaps this is what the other slaves in Danarius household meant when they said they fancied someone. If so, he couldn’t think of greater feeling, at least not one he’d experienced anyway.

 

***

 

“You don’t need to follow me inside, Gabriel.” Fenris shook his head at his antics.

 

He did have a point, Gabriel thought. Still... “I know, but you never know. What if there was an ambush in here?”

 

Fenris leaned against the door frame, folding his arms across his chest. “What would we be able to do against an ambush? There are only two of us.”

 

“True. But with a smoke screen, we could beat a hasty retreat.”

 

“You are an impossible man, a rather fetching, impossible man.” With a tilt of his head, he gestured for Gabriel to follow him. “Come on in.”

 

“I will just have a look around...for slavers of course.”

 

The corner of Fenris’ mouth pulled up only slightly, but the fondness was there nonetheless. “Naturally.”

 

Gabriel imagined that since they left no slavers alive the night they met, there wouldn’t be any that knew Fenris called this place home. In truth, he was merely surveying, taking note of the state of things, structural soundness of the home. It was not often that Fenris invited anyone over. So it came as quite a shock for Gabriel to see what started as a crack in the glass ceiling his the bedroom had turned into a gaping hole mere feet from where Fenris slept. No. This could not stand. 

 

What type of person would Gabriel be if, given all his newfound wealth, he left one of his closest friends without a roof over his head? A terrible person, that’s what. At least Fenris had let him help clear the corpses out.

 

“Satisfied?”

 

“Yes. I certify this residence ‘Slaver and Bandit Free’. Your continued safety shall...continue.” Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “Maker, that sounded so much better in my head. I’ll just leave you to your... evening,” he said, hovering his hand over Fenris’ shoulder rather than pat it, waiting for him to close the gap, which thankfully he did.

 

“Good night, Gabriel.”

 

Once outside, Gabriel groaned and scrubbed his hands down his face. “You’re hopeless. Truly hopeless.”

 

Nevertheless, he’d seen what he needed to inside.

 

***

 

Gabriel gave his most charming smile. “Good morning, Seneschal. You are looking as handsome as ever. Tell me, to whom do I direct my inquiry regarding property procurement.”

 

Seneschal Bran rolled his eyes. “Me. And you knew that already. Serah Hawke, how may I help you? And no, before you ask, the house adjoining yours is occupied and you cannot tear down the common wall.”

 

Gabriel rose an eyebrow at him. “Am I wearing my mischief face again? I thought I put it away before I left the house. No, you see, there is this home that I know is abandoned by its owner either through boredom, death, what have you. And I also know that many a noble consider its broken roof and cracked windows to be quite the eyesore.”

 

“All property inquiries are booked for the day, please come another day,” Bran deadpanned, this time not even looking up from the missive in his hands.

 

“I see.”

 

Let it never be said that Gabriel Malcolm Hawke gave up easily, nor should it ever be said he was nothing if not stubborn. In fact, he was both. So, though grumbling under his breath, he left, swearing to return the next day.

 

Which he did, but he was far less happy about it.

 

“Good morning, ass-crack of the morning to you, Seneschal. Did you do something new to your hair? It suits you.”

 

Seneschal Bran dismissed him with a wave of his hand. “Booked.”

 

“How? They just opened the doors to the public.”

 

“There are so many people to help you see.”

 

“Oh yes. Very helpful.”

 

“You, Serah Hawke, are an observant one.”

 

“This brings you joy doesn’t it?”

 

“Immense joy, yes. Thank you for asking.”

 

Gabriel scowled. When Bran gave him a similar dismissal the next two days, Gabriel parked himself outside the keep, refusing to leave until he was granted an audience regarding property purchases. In fact, once it had been locked for the night (ha locks) he slipped inside and took up temporary residence on the nearest sofa. If any of the city guards noticed him, they didn’t seem to care. Perhaps that had something to do with being friends with their captain.

 

The next morning, a clumsy jingling of keys brought him out of his light slumber. Quick as he could, he sat upright and tried to smooth down his hair, straighten his cuirass. When he saw that familiar flash of dark red hair, he wasted no time. “Why, Seneschal Bran, it seems I am first in line this morning.”

 

Startled, Bran almost dropped the ledger in his hands. “Serah. What? No backhanded compliments this morning?”

 

“I am outraged! Those were all genuine compliments. But no, my patience is gone. I wish to purchase-- _ today _ with no loan required--the rundown residence that lies diagonally from the Dupuis Estate. I  _ know _ you know to which home I am referring.”

 

“Ah yes. The one with the surly, elven squatter. I assume this is a personal request? Ousting him would please many of the nobility a great deal.”

 

“You think I wish to evict him?” Gabriel cackled, “On the contrary. I wish to repair the home so my friend has a roof over his head. Now, seeing as the owner on record has been listed as missing for five years, and correct me if I read Kirkwall law incorrectly, but that means he has legally been declared dead. Therefore, I shall be purchasing said home and repairing it.”

 

“Yes, you did read the volume on property law correctly. And I can’t say that corner of Hightown wouldn’t be improved by the renovations. But I am not giving your friend a title just because you intend to purchase the deed in your name.”

 

“I am not asking for one. I am just asking to give him a safe place to live, and I will not be putting money into a house that isn’t mine or isn’t owned by him. So, Seneschal, have we come to an understanding?”

 

Bran rose an eyebrow at him. “Yes, I believe we have. Please come up to my office where we shall discuss the terms of this purchase.”

 

***

  
  


“Go away,” Fenris groaned into his.pillow. As he sat up, he noticed not only was it raining, but it had been for some time given the puddle on the floor beside his bed. When the knocking continued, he grumbled his way to the front door where he found, to his great surprise, Gabriel waving around a rolled up leaf of parchment.

 

“Awwwwwwwww, Fenny!” Gabriel cooed like someone blabbering upon seeing a new baby for the first time. 

 

“Hawke.”

 

“Your hair...it’s so fluffy, like a little baby kitten.” He leaned against the door jamb and gave a dreamy sigh. “You, Ser, are adorable. Have I mentioned that before?”

 

Fenris blinked back the sleep that threatened to call him back to his bed. “I am not. And no you haven’t.” He couldn’t have stopped the yawn that came upon him if he tried. So he didn’t. “I don’t wish for this to sound rude,  but what do you want, Gabriel?”

 

As though Fenris’ words had shaken him from his stupor, he righted himself and waved the parchment again before placing it in Fenris’ hand. “ _ This _ , I am overjoyed to say, is for you.”

 

“What is it?” The letters on the parchment had been written in a scrawl too fancy for his limited reading skills to understand. “I mean, I see it’s something official, but the writing is too…”

 

Gabriel obliged and stepped closer and pointed to the large letters adorning the top of the page. “What if I spell it for you?”

 

“What?”

 

“This here, is a D. Then we have two E’s, remember how they sound together? Then another D right here.”

 

The word felt strange in Fenris’ mouth, but eventually, he managed to put it all together. “D-ee-d. Deed?” When Gabriel nodded, Fenris’ jaw fell open. “Is this what I think it is?”

 

“Yes, unless you think this is a Deed for a slave purchase. Then no. It’s not that. Do you recognize this word here?”

 

Yes, yes he did. “That’s my name and some other letters... wait, if this isn’t my slave contract, what is it.”

 

Gabriel beamed at him, and even in his exhausted and newly awoken state, it brightened his day, sent his heart stuttering. How he wished he could be that free with his smiles, with his affections. If only Danarius hadn’t shown up in Seheron and ruined what little peace he’d had in his life. Then again, he wouldn’t have come to Kirkwall and met Gabriel or any of these people he’d come to think of as friends. Yes, that would be a tragedy.

 

“ _ This _ is the deed to this house, and it’s yours. There is no need to pay me back. It’s not on loan. There is no catch and no caveat except just this one. Please let me hire workers to fix your roof, windows, repair that broken steps, make this place less of a health hazard.”

 

“I-”

 

“It rained last night. Did you wake up to a wet floor or soggy bed? Have shards of glass fallen on you?”

 

Fenris rubbed his upper arm, shifting his weight back and forth. “Not lately.”

 

The way Gabriel’s brows drew together and his eyes softened made Fenris feel like he’d kicked someone’s puppy. “So it’s happened before? You said you wanted to know what it was like to put down roots and build a life.  _ This _ is step one.”

 

“You giving me a house?”

 

Gabriel shook his head and swallowed hard, with Fenris watching, mesmerized, as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and then down. “No. By having somewhere to call yours, somewhere  _ safe _ . Help me help you to feel safe.”

 

“Well, who am I to refuse such an earnest and ardent plea?” He looked once more at the deed to Danarius’ mans- er,  _ his  _ mansion. His home. He had a home of his own that no one could take from him. “What are...what does this next to my name say, on this line here? F-r-ee-m-a-n? Wh-” His breath caught in his throat. “That says 'free man'.”

 

“No. It says 'Freeman'. I know you don’t exactly have a surname being a former slave. But the deed required one, and I thought this was one you would appreciate. You being on record as a free man. ”

Fenris’ hands shook as he ran his fingers over the word. He had a name, a surname, one that Danarius hadn’t forced onto him. He had roots.

 

He licked his lips. “I... don’t…” Words failed him.

 

“But if it’s not to your liking, I will have it amended to say whatever you want. You want to be called Fenris Fuckinghatesslavers, I will make sure it sa-”

 

“Thank you, Gabriel.” His hushed words were wet with unshed tears. “This means- thank you.”

 

“I said you deserve nice things. A place to call your own seems like a good place to start.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**** Track Listing:

Scenes 2-3: “Healah Dancing”- Keaton Heston w/ Ren Ford

 

“Tell me you’re not buying any of that bullshit, Hawke.” 

 

“Some of it sounded possible...but no, Isabela, I am skeptical.”

 

She wiped her daggers clean and tucked them into their scabbards. “Look, take it from me. I have known a lot of scum in my day, men who hide their depravity under the guise of ‘for her own good.’ And  _ that _ man in there sets off all my warning bells.”

 

“I’m inclined to agree with Rivaini. If there is one thing I know well, besides how to avoid the Merchant’s Guild, it’s how to spot a liar.”

 

Gabriel didn’t disagree with them. In fact, it was neither of those things that made him suspicious of this Gaspard DuPuis. It was his story. Too convenient. The man just happened to know the type of blood magic used to track someone, blaming another blood mage for the crime. It all sounded fishy. “I don’t think he’s the killer, but I’ll be damned if he’s not involved somehow.” 

 

He looked up at the rapidly darkening sky and turned to his friends. “You three going to be okay getting back to Lowtown?”

 

“Why wouldn’t we be? You  _ have  _ seen us fight haven’t you?” Isabela’s laugh filled the quiet air around them. “Besides, Kitten and I have a date with cards and whiskey tonight, and we are not missing out again to chase scum.”

 

“Heart of gold you have, Rivaini.”

 

“Oh do I detect a hint of jealousy, Varric? You are certainly welcome to join us for cards, and maybe if you win, we’ll let you watch.”

 

“Let him watch what? Because if you are implying what I think you are, no we won’t. I don’t need our ...” Merrill cleared her throat, “activities to become a chapter in one of his books.”

 

“Oh, Kitten, even if he doesn’t watch, I tell him everything anyway.”

 

Even in the low light, Gabriel could see Merrill’s eyes grow wide like saucers. “No! You don’t! Do you?” She covered her face with her hands. “I can’t possibly be interesting or skilled enough to wind up in one of your stories, Varric.”

 

Isabella placed her hands on Merrill’s shoulders. “Relax, Kitten. I’m only joking. He only gets to watch if you say yes.”

 

“Um right. Let’s get going, we should get going. Off to whiskey, yes, now.” Merrill gave Gabriel a small nod before she rushed off in what he could only guess was embarrassment, with Varric and Isabela hot on her heels.

 

He shook his head with a laugh, turned towards home but then thought better of it. Instead, he crossed the small courtyard and rapped on Fenris’ front door. With the recent repairs, all of the windows in the front of the house had been rehung with pristine glass. The stone had been cleaned and refinished. Even the window boxes had sprouts of various plants shooting up through the dirt. He took a moment to run his fingers over the name on the door plate. He hadn’t expected such a simple gesture to mean so much to Fenris.

 

When his three strong raps at the door went unanswered, he tried the door handle only to find it locked.  _ Not home then _ , he mused and resigned himself for a brisk run back to his place. Harder to ambush someone that way. Knives out, he hurried home, arriving in near record time and only slightly out of breath

 

As he stepped into his foyer, the sound of his mother’s laughter filtered through the house to his ears. Who could- He shook his head. Rather than seek her out, he ascended the stairs to his bedroom and changed out of his armor. His mother hated seeing him come home with blood on him, and to be honest, his house clothes were far more comfortable anyway. 

 

Once changed, he followed the sounds of amusement until he found his mother in the kitchen, her hands covered in flour as she kneaded a mound of dough...with Fenris of all people. Loath to interrupt the moment of joviality between them, he lurked in the doorway and took in the scene.

 

“No, you aren’t using enough muscle, Fenris. You won’t break it. See, like this,” she said, her voice kind and even as she demonstrated. The sight filled Gabriel with such warmth: his mother teaching the man he cared so much for-  _ love, you idiot. You love him. You know you do. Quit lying to yourself- _ to make bread. It was such a simple thing, but he remembered the way she used to teach his siblings and him. This? This was her way of saying to someone, ‘You are family now’ even though Gabriel was not sure whether she was aware of it or not.

 

He rolled up his sleeves, walking into the kitchen to stand beside Fenris, and grabbed a ball of dough for himself. “Good evening, Mother. How was your day?”

 

“Uneventful. Perhaps I should join a knitting circle.”

 

He turned to Fenris, overcome by the domesticity of it all.  _ Breathe, Gabriel _ . “Did I forget plans or something?”

 

Though Fenris rolled his eyes at him, the playful smirk on his lips betrayed him. “No. Your mother has been teaching me how to bake. I thought now that I have a working kitchen again, I might do myself a world of good to learn how to make bread. Naturally, I do not know many people who have this skill, so I turned to your mother.”

 

Gabriel’s mother laughed, “He remembered when I said any friend of yours was welcome in this house. Though, Sweetheart, I do wish you’d tell your pirate friend to stop carving naughty things into the wood around here.” She held up her floured hands in surrender. “I understand she is not as refined as nobility, nor does she seem to care. I understand, and I respect that. Must be nice to live that free, just simply remind her it is impolite to vandalize your railings with carvings of genitalia. That is all I’m saying.”

 

“Fair enough, Mother. I’ll bring it up the next time I see her.”

 

Remembering his agenda for the next day, he casually bumped his shoulder against Fenris’. “You would not believe who I ran into today.”

 

“The Queen of Ferelden?”

 

“No, but that would have been quite the story to tell. Hubert. Remember that smarmy, unsavory man?”

 

“Who could forget? I think he bathed in perfume. Couldn’t get the smell out of my clothes for weeks.”

 

“The very same, Fen-Fen. Well, the good news is he figured out what had been happening to his, well I guess  _ our _ caravans. It was an inside job from one of the workers, but I can’t say I blame him. Despite my missives requesting higher wages for the workers, Hubert remains as tightfisted as ever. Bad news, it was a joint effort between a rogue coterie thug Brekker. Whom suffice it to say, shall no longer be a problem.”

 

“More fighting? You know how I worry.”

 

“Yes, Mother. I know. If it helps, he ambushed us first. Better news: We get to travel to the Bone Pit tomorrow. You want to come don’t you? Say you want to come. Please. ”

 

How Gabriel lived for that chuckle and tiny smile! If only he could find a way to get Fenris to wear it all the time, then well, he’d die a happy man.

 

“Yes, Gabriel. I’ll come along too.”

 

“Fantastic. Just need to drop some ingredients off with Sol at the Gallows, and we’ll be on our way.”

 

“Sol?” his mother asked.

 

“Solivitus. He’s a Formari Herbalist. He’s been helping me work out my problem with healing potions and why I just can’t get them right. I bring him reagents and herbs.”

 

“Yes, and when you get the two of them together to talk about alchemy, Gabriel forgets anyone else is with him.”

 

“Thanks for throwing me under the cart, Fensie. But yes, he’s like my mentor here. It’s a good thing to have, you know.”

 

“So it would seem.” Fenris bumped his shoulder against Gabriel’s. “Someone just has to point out your shortcomings. Wouldn’t want your head to get too big now that you live here in Hightown,” he said with a smirk and a tone full of wryness.

 

***

 

“Go on, boy. Take your spot by the fire. You earned it.” Gabriel gave Barkley’s head a pat and retreated to the study where he found his mother sipping from her favorite teacup with the green vine pattern. 

 

She gestured to the seat beside her near the fireplace. “Would you like some? I made plenty.”

 

He nodded. “Yes, please. Thank you,” he said, taking the proffered cup.

 

“When was the last time we sat like this?”

 

“What? Drinking tea or by the fire?”

 

She gave him that look, one only a mother could manage, one that said ‘Really, Gabriel?’ in that special way that only  _ she _ could manage. It was enough to make him shrink in his chair. “You know what I mean. It’s nice to talk to you. You’re always so busy now. Helping people.”

 

He winced as he took a sip. “Ooh, hot. Honestly, Mother, I probably help a lot less than you think. Sometimes I feel I’m doing more harm than good helping people solve their problems. Seems to me like they’d benefit a lot more from learning to solve said problems themselves,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

 

“Don’t joke.”

 

“I wasn’t. I promise. I go through all this trouble to help keep the Arishok happy when it’s not even my job. The Viscount has people for that. Why I have been brought into this is beyond me. At the end of the day, it just seems my efforts have taken the city two steps back.”

 

She patted him on the shoulder. “I don’t think that’s true, sweetheart.” A long silence fell between them as though they’d stalled for things to talk about, which wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. There was so much of his life she wasn’t part of anymore. Did she know how many people he had to fight on a daily basis? Did she know the activities of some of his friends? What would she say if she knew he was friends with not only an abomination (for lack of a better word) but a blood mage as well? Granted, Merrill was just about the nicest person he’d ever met, could have given Bethany a run for her money. And Anders, well he healed the sick...for free.

 

Then again, he didn’t know much of her day to day dealings either. 

 

When the silence stretched on a bit too long, he filled it with the only way he knew how. “So, I’ve been working on a new potion. It’s like a healing potion, but not exactly. My hope when it’s done is to bring you back to consciousness if ever you should get knocked out. It’s not right yet. I think it needs more witherstalk, but that is hard to come by.”

 

“That’s nice.”

 

“Oh, did I tell you about the new grenade Fen and I came up with?” He could hear the brightness in his tone and could only imagine the look on his face. It had to match the cheerfulness in his voice.

 

She took another sip of her tea. “I don’t think you did.”

 

“You’ll like this! I know you’re familiar with dispel as a magical talent. It was one of the only spells Father tried to teach me that I actually could muster.”

 

“Yes, I believe I am.”

 

“Well,” he said, “we managed to find a way to combine that effect with a little entropy and ta-da! It’s a dispel grenade that not only gets rid of negative magic but also siphons a bit of mana from the caster. It’s genius! I tried it out earlier.”

 

“Hmm. By ‘we’ do you mean you made it and are just being modest?”

 

“What? No, Fenny, is a fantastic assistant. He knows a lot about herbs. I suspect he learned to make his own poultices while on the run, but I don’t have the heart to ask.”

 

She smirked behind the rim of her cup. “Fenny is it? Whatever happened to Fenris?”

 

Gabriel’s brows furrowed. “What? That’s what I said. Fenris is a great assistant. Plus, he has a room in his house that made the perfect workspace.”

 

“No,” she shook her head, “you rarely ever use his name anymore, always giving him little nicknames.”

 

“I do...not.” Damn. She was right.

 

“His house. The one you bought him?”

 

“What other house do mean?”

 

“Not many people purchase homes for other people.”

 

“It was the only way to fix it up. He was sleeping three feet from a giant hole in the ceiling, Mother. It was dangerous.”

 

She was quiet for a good minute before continuing, a slightly pained expression marring her graceful features. “You know, you could have just said something.”

 

“What? I thought you knew that already.”

 

“Not what I meant, Gabriel. All those times I brought up potential matches in my search to find you a wife...if you’d only just said-”

 

Oh. That. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mother, it’s not like that. I know how society works. You marry for position. It’s not…”

 

“Stop that right there. I’ll be damned if any of my children are to end up in a marriage like that, miserable and tied to someone you loathed. That could have been me once. I would have given you the final say you know. But if I’d only have known, I wouldn’t have bothered you with it.”

 

He sighed. “So if I had said, ‘Mother, I prefer the company of men,’ you’d have what? Found me a husband?”

 

Without hesitating, she said, “Yes. No question. May I ask you something, Gabriel?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“That night when you came home with a broken nose…”

 

He rolled his eyes, but there was no annoyance behind it. “It was Fen. I’ve been…” he trailed off, turning his gaze to the fire.

 

When he looked back at her, she seemed to be wrestling with her words.

 

“Go ahead and ask.”

 

“Is it, and it doesn’t matter if it is, because he’s an elf? I know some people just have a thing for them.”

 

“He is? Huh. You know I sometimes forget.”

 

“Must you always joke about things like this?   
  


“Like before, Mother, I wasn’t joking. He hates the alienages, is bulkier and taller than any elf I’ve met. He's not even an inch shorter than me!"

 

She patted his knee. "You know, sweetheart, that really isn't saying much."

 

He covered his heart in mock insult. "Ouch. You wound me, Mother. Anyway, he was his master’s bodyguard for Andraste’s sake. And no. It’s not an elf thing. It’s a _him_ thing. I mean...have you heard him speak?” He melted into his chair, sinking down almost off the cushion. “That voice! And he’s so intelligent despite his limited literacy. Did you know he speaks five languages fluently with some knowledge of two more? And he is just a wealth of historical information. It’s amazing.”

 

“And a pretty face.”

 

“I know, right? I just want to be around him all the time.”

 

His mother set down her teacup on the small end table beside her. Then, she took his hand. “Sweetheart, you’re in love.”

 

“I am n-” Gabriel’s mouth hung open for the long moment it took for his brain to catch up. She was right. “I know.”

 

“Do you now?”

 

“Yes,” he nodded, “apparently I am. I just figured that out. I have to tell him. I should tell him. Yeah, I’ll do that. Definitely. Tomorrow.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

 

Track Listing: 

Scenes 1-3: “Yellow Flicker Beat”- Lorde

Scenes 4-5: “Running Up that Hill”- Placebo

 

That armor was impossible to mistake for anything other than Tevinter. Dread coursed through Fenris’ veins, and for the life of him he couldn’t say what kept it contained when every instinct told him to flee. No. Fight. He had to fight.

 

“You are in possession of stolen property!” the mage bounty hunter shouted down from the small hill above them. “Hand over the slave, no one shall get hurt.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gabriel tense before taking the tiniest step forward. Fenris reached out to stop him; there were archers with nocked arrows trained on them all and ready to fire at the signal. 

 

He missed, however, and instead, Gabriel caught his wrist and nudged Fenris behind him. What was the idiot doing? 

 

“Fenris is no one’s slave! He is a free man! I will not back away, and you will not touch him!” To his surprise, both Varric and Isabela moved forward as well. He watched the subtle motions from Varric’s quick fingers as they slid bolts into place. Varric, too, was ready to fire. 

 

It seemed like an eternity as his brain processed the scene before him, but Fenris knew it could only be a few seconds that passed. His friends, likely the only three he had in the world were ready to die for him, and as heroic as that sounded, their blood was not whose he wanted on his hands. Not now nor did he ever.

 

“I will not repeat myself. Hand over the slave!”

 

The lyrium in his skin burned white hot, the way it always did when he tapped into its power. “I am not a slave!”

 

The surrounding scene descended into chaos. Nigh invisible, Isabela darted around the field of battle, daggers flashing this way and that. She cut down slavers before they even knew what hit them. Bolt’s shot from Bianca rained down around them, and how Varric managed to never hit one of their party, Fenris could never figure out.

 

With every hit his sword made against a foe, his panic began to subside. They could do this. He’d done it before, and he’d probably have to do it again. But the slavers kept coming. Where were they all coming from? It certainly didn’t look like this many when they’d first been ambushed.

 

His blade stuck a bit in the armor of a fallen enemy. It took more effort than usual to pull free. When he’d finally managed to disentangle himself, the force spun him around where he saw Gabriel who had somehow become isolated and was now surrounded by a new wave of slavers.

 

None of them, not Varric, not Isabela, nor himself were anywhere near him. Terror as he’d never known, or at least that he could remember, washed over him in a wave. He couldn’t remember feeling this about anyone but himself, this choking fear. No matter how fast he ran, he never seemed to get within striking distance. But...he did draw close enough to see the sheer panic on Gabriel’s face that screamed ‘How did I get here?’ and ‘I’m going to die.’

 

No! Fenris would not allow it. He summoned every last ounce of his stamina and readied to sprint towards him when the area around Gabriel erupted in a flash of bright light. Not even a moment later, faster than he could blink, faster than a heartbeat, a tremendous wave of energy burst forth. It propelled enemy fighters away from him in such force, they smashed against the cliffs like a child’s doll. 

 

From there, it wasn’t much work to finish off the slavers, though Fenris couldn’t help but notice how ineffective Gabriel’s daggers were, how little effort he seemed to be able to put into each thrust, each jab. When finally, the last foe fell, Gabriel looked ready to collapse. Sensing this, Fenris rushed over to him, only catching him before his knees gave out.

 

There was a deep gash on his forehead that looked like it came due to his helmet being knocked off. “Whoa there, I have you. What was that?” 

 

Gabriel looked up at him. “A shockwave grenade.”

 

He helped Gabriel back to his feet, looking him in the eyes. For once it was nice to not need to look up to see eye-to-eye with a human man. They always seemed to be taller than Fenris was, which said a lot since he was tall for an elf. Gabriel (and how hadn’t he noticed this before) was shorter than average. If he’d measured, Fenris imagined they’d stand the same height.

 

This revelation, however, was unimportant at the moment. 

 

What was important, was the way Gabriel swayed on his feet. His gaze looked unfocused as he peered at Fenris, his blinking slow. He licked his lips. “You’re beautiful. Did I ever tell you that? Eyes like viridium.”

 

“Once or twice.” Fenris took Gabriel’s face in his hands, enabling him to inspect the damage. “You are a bit unsteady. Can you concentrate?”

 

Gabriel licked his lips and swallowed. “I think so. It’s just a bit fuzzy. I have an elfroot potion in the pouch on my belt. It should fix me up. Well except the bleeding. I painted the stopper green.”

 

Fenris, mindful of the pouch’s proximity to Gabriel’s groin, searched until he found the one he needed. “Gabriel, all the stoppers are painted.”

 

“Oh yeah,” he rubbed his forehead smearing blood across his forehead. “I did that for you. I figured in battle, you might be in too much of a hurry to sound out the words. Color-coded them to make it easier on you. If it bothers y-”

 

“Nonsense.” Fenris uncorked his water skein and dampened a bandage, using it to clean Gabriel’s forehead. “I appreciate the gesture. What is the purple one?

 

“That’s an agility potion. You can try it if you want, it would make your blows land harder if you could jump higher.”

 

“Maybe some other time. Or maybe I save it for you and teach you how to dance.” He watched Gabriel knock back the potion.

 

“Hey!” Shuddering, Gabriel wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Ugh, that tastes so foul. And I  _ can _ dance just not that well.”

 

“I will believe that when I see it.” He rummaged through his own pouch for a little pot of salve. “Look at me, please.” Fenris smeared some embrium and laurel balm across the healing wound on Gabriel’s forehead, before covering it with a small piece of cloth. The fact that he leaned into Fenris’ touch did not escape notice, but he said nothing. “This will take care of the bleeding.”

 

Gabriel caught Fenris’ hand as he pulled it away, dropping it almost immediately when he realized what he’d done. “Sorry. I just- Thank you.”

 

Fenris parroted back one of Gabriel’s own phrases said to him recently. “You don’t need to thank me. We’re friends, Gabriel.” The soft blush that bloomed on Gabriel’s already sun-darkened cheeks was enough to draw a tiny smile from Fenris in response. 

 

Though it seemed like the moment between them had lasted forever, a pained groan from off to his left drew Fenris’ attention away. The magister who’d demanded they turn Fenris over had survived the fracas. In an instant the soft, warm feeling he so often felt around Gabriel was gone, only to be replaced by rage. He stormed over to the injured man and grabbed him by the hair. “Where is he?”

 

***

 

Gabriel watched Fenris’ shoulders heave in anger. “What better way to get slaves than to steal them?”

 

“She won’t get away; I promise.”

 

“Don’t make promises you aren’t sure you can keep, Gabriel.”

 

He sighed; Fenris could be so dramatic when he wanted to be. “Fine. I promise I will do everything I can to make sure she won’t get away.”

 

“Fair enough.”

 

The dank air inside the cave clung to his clothes, dug its tendrils into his lungs almost choking him. An unmistakable hint of skittering sent chills coursing through his veins. Always spiders, why was it always spiders? Gabriel was anxious and apparently about to step right into danger as he found himself shoved back by Isabella’s hand on his sternum.

 

“Trap.”

 

He watched Varric’s deft fingers disarm the pressure plate.

 

“You would normally have seen that from across a field, Hawke. You sure your head is okay? You did take a pretty good hit.”

 

“I’m fine, Varric, just… my thoughts are elsewhere.”

 

When a mob of slavers came rushing down the hallway at them, all distractions fell by the wayside. Gabriel’s fingers closed around a glass bulb on his waist, and he launched it towards the group. The flask shattered, coating them in a sickly, green fog. When the smoke settled, relief took the place of the musky scent of the stagnant air in his lungs. The initial vapor had blanketed the now dead bodies with a thick, viscous acid.

 

“Hahaha!” His manic laughter echoed in the cavern. “It worked! It was experimental! I never thought felandaris would aerosolize so well” He grabbed Varric under his arms and lifted him up. “It worked, Varric! Did you see that? A cloud and then BOOM! Acid” Then, he noticed just how light Varric  _ wasn’t _ and sat him down at once and panted. “Are all dwarves so solidly built?”

 

“Yes,” Varric chuckled, “it’s part of our charm.”

 

“Oh? I thought it was the chest hair,” Isabella said with a dreamy sigh. “Oh, the chest hair.”

 

Fenris cleared his throat. “Right. We should move on.”

 

The narrow hall opened up into an open room, and Gabriel had to fight the rising bile in his throat at the site of the corpse on the table- the elven corpse, male corpse bled dry.

 

“See for yourself the legacy of the magisters.”

 

Blood still dripped from the wounds in the man’s wrist even though it had started to become sluggish as it clotted. 

 

“That’s horrible,” his words were barely above a whisper, because all he could think of as he stared, unblinking, was how that could have been Fenris.  _ He _ could have been the dead man on the table, bled dry for the whim of his master. Gabriel felt sick. “They are never touching you again, Fen.” Those words he had meant to be spoken under his breath, but clearly their volume had been louder than he’d intended given the looks on the faces of his companions.

 

To his surprise, he felt a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, and he turned to see Fenris giving him an appreciative nod.

 

“I can’t-” he squeezed his eyes shut. He’d killed dozens of people by now, but in his head, he had been able to rationalize all of them. There had never been one who hadn’t attacked him first. He hadn’t murdered anyone. But this, seeing this poor man strapped down with his face frozen in the fear he felt in his final moments, knowing that had any one of a dozen different events gone differently, he could be looking at Fenris dead on that table.

 

This was enough to both push his stomach over the edge and to fuel his rage. Once he’d painted the cavern floor with what remained of his breakfast, he saw red. “She’s never doing this again.

 

***

 

“You have a sister,” the woman on the ground sneered at Fenris. 

 

“How do we know you’re not lying?” Gabriel stared at her. He didn’t even know this woman, but he wanted her dead. If not for Fenris then for all the dead slaves he’d walked past on the way in.

 

“You don’t.” If there was a way to describe the way evil sounded, her snicker would have been it. She stared at Fenris, derision plastered across her face like a coat of paint. “But I know Fenris. I know what he wants, and if he expects me to betray my mentor, then he’ll have to take my word for it.”

 

Gabriel wanted to scream that, no, she didn’t know Fenris. She didn’t know him at all, likely couldn’t see him for anything other than the power and protection his markings gave him, and by proxy herself and Danarius. To her, Fenris wasn’t even a person, just a pet, a beast. She couldn’t see the wealth of knowledge that abounded in his mind, the words of so many nations that flowed so cleanly from his tongue, the way his gait shifted when his markings ached. She knew _ nothing _ . Gabriel told her as much. She merely spat on his shoes. “Fen, it’s up to you.”

 

True to his name, Fenris stalked towards her, a wolf sizing up his prey. 

 

“So do I have your word? I tell you, and you let me go?”

 

Fenris glared at her. “Yes. You have my word.”

 

“Her name is Varania. She serves the magister Ahriman in Qarinus.”

 

“Not a slave?”

 

“No.”

 

“I believe you.” No sooner had the words left Fenris’ lips than he had reached into her chest to stop her beating heart. “There’s nothing more for us here.”

 

“Do you need to talk?”

 

Fenris spun on his heel, a look of hatred on his face, the likes of which Gabriel had never known. “No! I don’t need to discuss this! Nor do I want to. For all we know, this is a trap! Danarius probably told her to come tell me this. By the Void it wouldn’t be the first time he’s arranged something like this! Even if I wanted to believe Hadriana, and that’s a big  _ if _ , trying to find this sister would be a death sentence.” He took a shuddering breath. “But I finally got to crush her heart. The Void take her and every mage with her.”

 

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, “Surely you don’t mean that. I-”

 

“Oh, I do!”

 

“We should leave,” Gabriel reached out to return the favor of a comforting hand on Fenris’ shoulder, which he shrugged off in an instant. “No. Don’t comfort me. You saw what they did. Mages will always find an excuse to do this. What has magic touched that it doesn’t spoil.” His whole posture sagged. “I...need to go.”

 

Gabriel stared after him for a long moment before his brain caught up and processed what Fenris had said. “Me.” Though he could barely hear it himself over the sound of his breathing, it felt like that tiny word echoed in every crevice of that cavern, taunting him.  _ Has it spoiled me? _

 

When Fenris had finally vanished out of sight, a hand on each shoulder shook him from his haze. “Don’t take it personally, Bright Eyes,” Isabela sighed while moving her hand from his shoulder to pet his hair. “You know he doesn’t mean you.”

 

“Do I?”

 

“I have known many men in my time. They have this look about them when they’re enamored even if they try to hide it. That’s how he looks at you when you’re not watching. He’s just upset. Trust me on this.”

 

Gabriel rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Still hurts.”

 

He gave the room a quick once-over before they hightailed it out of that damn cave. If he could burn the damn place down, he would. Once outside, he turned looked around, surprised to not find Fenris leaning against the entrance to the cave like he’d done outside Danarius’ mansion the night they left. When a cursory search of the nearby area turned up nothing, his heart pounded in his chest.

 

What if they hadn’t caught everyone? What if Hadriana was the first step, the ruse to draw him back outside? What if while Isabela, Varric and he remained inside, Danarius stood waiting ready to recapture Fenris? Those scenarios and a dozen others swirled in his head in a maelstrom of thoughts. “Fen! You out here? Wait up for us! We’ll head back to Kirkwall now! Forget the Bone Pit today!” He paused a moment, waiting, hoping...praying for a response. “Fenris!”

 

“He’s not here, Firecracker.” When Varric noticed the panicked expression on Gabriel’s face, he backtracked. “I’m sure, in a fit of broody pique, he stomped off back to the city. Rude, if you ask me, leaving us down a man, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

 

“Yeah,” Gabriel mumbled, but even a stranger could have heard the lack of belief in his voice.

 

***

 

Gabriel knocked on Fenris’ front door. “Come on, Fen! I know you’re upset. We don’t need to talk. You don’t even need to open the door, just say  _ something _ so I know you weren’t captured by slavers or ambushed by bandits on the way home. Please!” When he received no response, he pulled out the key Fenris had given him. It had come along with a somewhat open invitation that he was always welcome. Despite that, Gabriel had never used the key or entered his home without being let in. It felt too much like an invasion of privacy.

 

The panic he’d barely been able to contain since leaving the Wounded Coast, finally broke free as he ran from room to room searching for Fenris. When he’d found nothing but silence, he wracked his brain trying to remember all his usual places.

 

First, he checked the market, then the Hanged Man, even the docks, knowing Fenris favored a knife grinder there for blade maintenance. He couldn’t do this. Even though Fenris had left on his own accord, Gabriel couldn’t help but blame himself if anything had happened to him. He was the one who asked him along on the trek today after all.

 

Dejected and defeated and wholly about to file a missing person notice with Aveline, Gabriel braced himself against a wall in Lowtown. “Fuck!” He punched the wall in desperate frustration and regretted it right away as his hand throbbed. Knuckles bleeding, he tried to shake away the pain. When that failed, he pulled a clean bandage from the pouch on his belt and wrapped it around his injured hand before choking down his remaining elfroot potion. He  _ had _ to find a way to make those taste better. Nothing meant to heal you should taste like a corpse’s sweaty feet. Not that he knew what those tasted like, but he was sure that if he tried them, they would taste just like a damn elfroot potion.

 

Lacking the energy and motivation to stand, he sank to the ground. What was he going to do if something had happened to Fenris? Not again. He was tired of people he loved being stolen from him.

 

***

 

Lost to the intrusive thoughts and ebbing anger in his head, Fenris stared down at the floor in Gabriel’s entryway. It had been hours since he’d shouted at Gabriel, hours since he’d stormed off and left his friends in that Maker forsaken place. By the time he’d arrived back in Kirkwall, a ball of regret had taken hold in the pit of his stomach. 

 

He supposed that Gabriel hadn’t intended him to hear his broken reply, but he had, and it had been eating at him ever since.

 

Strong feelings aside, the man was his friend, his closest friend at that, and Fenris had lashed out at him, comparing him to Hadriana, to Danarius. In reality, Gabriel was as far from being like them as anyone could be. He’d helped even after Fenris had lured him into that trap. Befriended Fenris despite his railing about mages and how much he distrusted them. Bought him a place to live just because he was worried about the hole in the ceiling... gave him a name…

 

Fenris dropped his head into hands and raked his hands along his scalp. This was a mess, and he had to fix it.

 

Still, Gabriel should have been home by now. Then, he remembered their initial plan to travel to the Bone Pit today. He kicked himself for leaving his friends down their only warrior. Especially knowing what he did about that place. What if they’d been outnumbered, overwhelmed, and they’d fallen because he’d left? Gabriel had already been injured that day. Did his absence doom all three of them? Maker, he hoped not.

 

“I know you said you wanted to wait for my son, but if you’re going to insist on waiting, I’m going to insist you join me for dinner.”

 

Startled out of his ruminating, Fenris looked up to see Messere Hawke standing in the doorway. “I-”

 

“Didn’t mean to startle you. Do you like rabbit stew? Bohdan’s recipe is delicious.”

 

“I... could eat.” He followed after her to the dining room where he found an extra place setting already waiting. “Thank you, Messe-”

 

“I’ve told you, please call me Leandra, and you’re welcome.”

 

Fenris cleared his throat. “Of course.”

 

She gave a couple jiggles to the spice shaker between them on the table. “So, do you need to talk about what has you looking like someone kicked your Mabari? I thought you were to travel with Gabriel to the Bone Pit today.”

 

“We were, but we got sidetracked. I was upset and I... said some unkind things about mages. I forget sometimes, that he’s a mage. But I left, instead of apologizing. They should be back by now. Perhaps they returned to town to enlist another of our group to go with them,” he said as he stirred his stew with a crust of bread.

 

The stew probably was delicious, just as Leandra had stated, but to him, it was tasteless, his worry taking over his taste buds. Rather than be an ungracious guest, he obliged and ate despite himself. Eventually, as they settled into an awkward silence, Leandra sighed at him.

 

“Maker’s breath, you two are so alike it’s uncanny. I’m sure he’ll forgive you. Just tell him you’re sorry and then tell him how you feel about him.”

 

“It’s not that,” he took a sip of stew and then choked on it as he realized the extent of what she’d said. “I’m sorry what?”

 

Rather than respond and quell his confusion, Leandra merely smiled and wiped her mouth on her napkin. “You two will figure things out. I know my son, and he is nothing if not a good problem solver.”

 

“I- Yes, he is.” How did she know he had been nursing intense feelings for Gabriel, warring with himself about whether to tell him or keep it inside?

 

“Would you like more? Gabriel mentioned you had quite the appetite, though I can’t see where you keep it all. Is it an elven thing?”

 

He chuckled and shook his head. “No, I mean, I can’t speak for other elves. It’s from my markings. Tapping into them takes significant energy. I’m usually pretty hungry. Gabe- er Gabriel makes sure I eat. Sometimes, I forget because I’ve spent a lot of my life--well life that I can remember--in a constant state of hunger. I conditioned myself to ignore it but, he won’t let me.”

 

She ladled more stew into his bowl. “He always has been good at taking care of his loved ones. You should have seen him with Carver and Bethany when they were children, always telling them to ‘Be careful’ warning them not to get hurt, but he was right there to bandage their scraped knees when they didn’t listen. If you are someone important to Gabriel then he will bend over backwards to help you, even when that help isn’t deserved. Maker knows I haven’t deserved it sometimes. I blamed him for Bethany’s death. I was grieving and not thinking clearly. I took it out on him, and I shouldn’t have. I know that now, but I don’t think I’ve ever apologized.”

 

Fenris sighed, “I think he’d say it’s never too late to say sorry. He told me it was not too late to learn to read. Maybe it’s similar.”

 

She hovered her hand above his where it rested on the table, hesitating. Gabriel must have mentioned that too. He gave a curt nod, and she patted the back of his hand. “Perhaps it is.”

 

He finished up his meal, excusing himself to return to the entryway where he lost himself in his thoughts once again. Sometime later, and he couldn’t say how much had passed since he resumed his vigil, the front door opened. Fenris waited with bated breath until he saw Gabriel appear, his face wrought with worry, but otherwise okay.

 

Gabriel turned--he didn’t appear to have seen Fenris--and removed his armor, draping it over the armor stand in the corner. Then, he rested his head against the wall. “Fen, where are you? You had better be okay.”

 

His heart sank. Gabriel had been out looking for him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.” He watched as the worry fled from Gabriel’s face like the tide going out to sea. 

 

“You scared me. I couldn’t find you. When we left that cave and you were nowhere around... I thought they’d stolen you, taken you back to Danarius.”

 

“I needed to be alone.” The thought hadn’t even occurred to him; he’d been blinded with anger towards Hadriana, and the possibility that Danarius could have been lying in wait never once crossed his mind. Scolding himself needed to be left for another time, however. “Look, what happened with Hadriana... I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you. It wasn’t your fault. And I didn’t mean you when I said magic spoiled everything it touched.”

 

Gabriel’s eyebrows rose in alarm. “You... heard me say that?”

 

Fenris pointed to his ears. “Pointed ears aren’t just for looks. Our sense of hearing is much better than humans’. That is not the point. I sometimes forget you are a mage. Regardless of whether you use your magic or not, it has not spoiled you.” He sighed. “Hadriana, she used to mock me, starve me, torment me while I slept. One time she dumped a pail of freezing water on my head to wake me in the middle of the night on a whim. She kept meals from me for almost a week once. I know I gave her my word I would let her live, but when it came time to stick to the promise, I couldn’t. This anger and hatred that fills me... it’s their fault, hers and Danarius, and I just couldn’t let her go. I wish I could be free from this rage, but- I thought I’d make progress and moved away from it. It seems I was mistaken.” He rubbed his temples. “But I didn’t come to complain. I came to apologize for yelling at you and scaring you I guess. Neither was my intention and you didn’t deserve it.” 

 

He turned to beat a hasty retreat. A hand caught his wrist stopping him, and he thought he heard someone say something, but in that moment he could think of nothing else but survival. Grabbing whoever had halted his getaway by the shirt and shoved them against the wall. Every time the lyrium flared up, it sent flashes of pain coursing through his veins, but he reared his hand back anyway, ready to rip out the offending heart only to be stopped with a shaky, “I’m sorry. Sorry, didn’t mean to-” He blinked back the confusion and found Gabriel staring at him panic-stricken and trembling, on the verge of tears.

 

“Sorry I grabbed you. I wasn’t thinking. It’s me. You’re safe. I won’t hurt you, never will.”

 

It was a kick in the chest to see him looking back with those soft amber eyes when he’d almost- when he’d- He’d told Aveline he wasn’t safe when she’d asked, and here was proof. In moments like that, where the need to survive took over, he wasn’t in his head. The first he’d heard of asala-taar, was on Seheron. Seeing how he looked from the outside, seeing it in another, was a rude wake up call. He knew how to calm himself, ground himself. But how did Gabriel know what to say? Fenris had never said a word. And still…

 

Now though, Gabriel looked at him in fear. Whether it was fear  _ of _ him or fear of hurting him, Fenris didn’t know. All he knew was that he never wanted Gabriel to look at him like that again. 

 

No, that wouldn’t do. 

 

Instead, he softened his grip on Gabriel’s shirt until his hand splayed on his chest. The quickened thump of a heartbeat beneath his palm kept him in the moment. Fast but steady, strong, as if someone as generous and helpful, exuberant as Gabriel could have a heart that wasn’t. 

 

Without taking his eyes off him, Fenris bit the fingertip of one of his gauntlets, tugging it off with his teeth before casting it to the ground to do the same to the other. The sharp intake of breath and expansion of Gabriel’s pupils was impossible to miss. Cupping his cheek, Fenris felt his own pulse quicken at the way Gabriel leaned into the touch, at the sight of the subtle biting of his lip. Then, he turned his head ever so slightly, just enough so that he could drag his bottom lip along Fenris’ palm

 

The way he stared at him with those intense brown eyes, had Fenris weak in the knees. To his surprise, Gabriel reached up and pulled his hand away, lacing their fingers together. Then, he did the same with the other hand before raising their clasped hands above his head. Did he mean for Fenris to pin him to the wall? If he didn’t, he made no noise of protest when Fenris leaned into him, did not try to wriggle out of his hold. On the contrary, Gabriel made no attempt to free himself at all, rather, he sagged into Fenris’ body.

 

_ Kiss him. You want to. You know you do. _ His silent war with himself was over before it really began. He swallowed Gabriel’s note of surprise when their lips met. For having no experience, at least none he remembered, he sure felt emboldened in that moment. Could think of nothing else but how soft Gabriel’s lips were, how they felt against his, how he tasted. 

 

More, he wanted more, needed more.

 

On a hunch, Fenris trailed a line of kisses starting at the hinge of Gabriel’s jaw and down to his collarbone where he nipped at his russet-colored skin. He was not expecting the high-pitched whine that followed. “I’m learning all kinds of things about you, Gabe,” he mumbled into his skin.

 

Gabriel panted in return, “Learn all you want.”

 

Fenris released his hold on Gabriel’s hands so he could cup the back of his head and enmesh one of his own in the black locks that kissed his shoulders. Then, tender as if holding a baby bird, Fenris pulled Gabriel to him, bringing their lips together once more. “Oh, I intend to,” he said, whisper-soft against the spit-slick skin of Gabriel’s mouth. There they stood, and nothing else existed beyond the two of them. Lips moved against lips; tongues dancing in a gentle caress. 

 

His groan when Gabriel broke the kiss to suck a mark into the skin near his Adam’s apple echoed in the room. “Perhaps this is not the best place to do this. Your mother is still home.”

 

Gabriel made no effort to move, continuing to lavish attention on Fenris’ neck, and not for the first time since he had pinned him to the wall, Fenris considered picking him up. Both to see if he could and to also get his hands on Gabriel’s ass. He’d seen the way it looked in armored leather leggings; it was hard to resist staring. 

 

So he gave in.

 

Gabriel was far lighter than Fenris had expected. Perhaps the man was wiry under that armor. For the first time that he could remember, Fenris actually  _ wanted _ someone to know what he looked like under  _ his _ . 

 

“Mm,” Gabriel groaned, wrapping his legs around Fenris’ waist, “careful on the stairs.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains a description of a panic attack in the last scene

 

Track Listing:

Scene 1: “Sorry”- Aquilo

Scenes 2-3: “The Lion and the Wolf”- Thrice

Scene 4: “Coming Undone”- Korn

 

The soft clink of shifting metal roused Gabriel from his sleep. He’d passed out moments after they’d finished, exhausted and wholly sated. The ache of his limbs was familiar even if it had been years since he’d felt it. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and stared up at the canopy of his bed until a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The other side of the bed was empty, cold, and there Fenris stood by the fire, fully dressed and posture tense.

 

Before he spoke, Gabriel wracked his brain for what could be the matter, for what he had done wrong, and it  _ had _ to have been something he’d done because  _ everything _ Fenris had done was earthshaking. A tiny, private smile tugged at his mouth. It didn’t matter if he walked a bit funny tomorrow, or awoke to find his neck covered in love bites so vibrant it made the group laugh at him for hours, it was worth it. Still, he needed to  ask, “Was it that bad?”

 

“It’s not that. It was-”

 

Gabriel winced, “Was it because I was done so fast? Look I said it had been awhile. There weren’t many prospects in Lothering, and I dunno since then… it might work for some people, and Isabela swears by it, but visiting the brothel isn’t for me. I’ll last longer next ti…”

 

“It was fine.”

 

_ Just fine? That had to be code for ‘You are the worst experience in bed I have ever had. Please forget this whole night ever happened.' _ “Oh.”

 

“No, that’s the wrong word. It was fantastic all of it... I…”

 

Wait...he’d said...oh… shit. “Was it what I said? You don’t have to feel the same or say it back,” he said trying to break the tension, though his shaking voice betrayed him. “I just, it’s not an emotion to keep bottled up... especially when you kiss like  _ that _ .” He tried for laughter, but it only came out nervous. “I couldn’t help it. I did mean it though. I swear.”

 

His heart hammered in his chest, and the longer Fenris remained silent the more his nerves and resolve began to unravel. 

 

“I can’t remember anything before I received these,” he held up his arms showing his markings, “but I started to recall things. Faces, voices, just little fragments. This is too much, too fast. I... cannot do this.”

 

Some part of Gabriel heard and understood everything Fenris was saying, but a bigger part of him, the more irrational side still coming back from the high of bliss, took over, flooding his mind with those silly thoughts that often plagued him.  _ He thought it was a mistake, that you were a mistake. Just look at his face. He regrets this _ . Gabriel took a moment to silently tell his brain to knock it off and stop being an asshole.  At least he thought he did. Instead, he opened his mouth. “You’re leaving.” 

 

“For just a moment, I remembered everything, and then it was gone like that,” he said, snapping his fingers. “To have no memory of my life, then to have it come back and disappear as quickly... I can’t.”

 

_ That’s just a polite way of saying, ‘He can’t with you.’ _

 

His head still reeling, Gabriel blinked at him several times while he floundered for a response. “Don’t go. It’s late, there are gangs. Here, have my bed, I will sleep on the chaise in the study. Please, just wait until morning.” He hated how small his voice sounded.

 

“I’m sorry. I feel like such a fool. For just once, I wanted to be happy, even if only a moment.” He turned and walked towards the door. “Forgive me.”

 

Gabriel didn’t even register Fenris had left until he heard the squeak of the front door as it opened and latched close again. Despite Fenris’ words that it hadn’t been his fault, and that he’d enjoyed himself, Gabriel felt the weight of the last few minutes crushing him. Shame and guilt raced around in his head, and there, fighting for control was that same awful feeling of self-blame that always harassed him  _ anytime _ things went wrong. No matter the truth of it or not, it was his fault.

 

It was always his fault.

 

For several minutes, Gabriel tried to convince himself that Fenris would be fine on the short walk back to his house. He was more than capable of taking care of himself. But... what if there were dozens of them, sneaking out of the shadows and off rooftops the way The Invisible Sisters did? Could Fenris fight them all off until he could get away? Would Gabriel stumble over his corpse in the morning?

 

The ache that bloomed in the center of his chest felt like he’d been hit with a maul, crumpling, pulsing- If this was how heartache felt, why bother trying to be in love at all?

 

***

 

“Please say something,” Gabriel damn near sobbed as he rapped on Fenris’ front door. It was locked, but even his key wouldn’t open the door.  “No one has heard from you in days. I just... are you all right? Still alive? Please, you don’t even need to see me. Tell me to go, and I will. I just need to know you’re fine, that I didn’t hurt you.”

 

When he received no answer, that horrible, crushing fear he’d been wrestling with since Fenris had walked out on him, gave way to anger. “Fine. If you’re not dead, I can take a hint.”

  
  


***

  
  


Fenris spun a coin on the tile floor of his entryway. Just before it wobbled and fell, he snatched it up only to spin it again.

 

“Tell me to go, and I will,” Gabriel pleaded on the other side of the heavy, wooden door. “I just need to know you’re fine, that I didn’t hurt you.”

 

Fenris tried to answer him, to say anything, tell him  _ everything _ . Tell him he never meant to make him sound the way he did right now. Tell him he regretted not staying until morning to at least give him peace of mind. Tell him he cared, deeply, maybe even loved him. What was he thinking? Of course, he loved him... he thought he did anyway, was fairly certain anyway. How does one know such a thing? Especially when they can’t remember ever feeling  _ any _ type of love in their life. Most of all, he wanted to allay his fears. Gabriel hadn’t hurt him, not by anything he’d done. In fact, it was probably the opposite that caused the whole disastrous remembering thing anyway. 

 

Not since the ritual had he been held with such reverence, treated as not only a person, an equal, but as something to cherish, protect and keep safe. No, Gabriel didn’t hurt him; he just loved him, and maybe that was worse.

 

He watched the gold sovereign spin, watched its edges blur until it no longer looked like a coin but a spinning ball. A thud to the door startled him out of his reverie. The audible hiss of pain and grumbling that followed answered his unspoken question. Gabriel had punched the door in frustration. 

 

“Fine.” 

 

Fenris would pay an unlimited sum of money to never hear him sound that resigned and defeated again. “If you’re not dead, I can take the hint.” Oh no. There were tears in his voice. Maker, he’d messed this up.

 

No less than ten times since that night, had Fenris tried to leave his house, walk over there and apologize for leaving. He would have said that yes, more than anything, he wanted to be with him, but they’d moved too fast, and could they take several steps back and try again. He made it as far as the front door each time before paralyzing fear seized him and sent him reeling. 

 

Even if he summoned the courage to leave right this moment, how could he fix this now? Though he didn’t have a positive idea of what a broken heart sounded like, if he had to place a bet, he would say the way Gabriel sounded a moment ago, was it.

 

Fenris let the coin spin itself out, left it lying where it had fallen. Then he stood and leaned his forehead against the door. He didn’t deserve someone like Gabriel. No, he was better off alone.

 

***

  
  


“Glad to see you finally got over whatever illness bugged you last week,” Varric said, clapping Gabriel on the back. Though by the look Varric gave him, Gabriel could tell he didn’t buy his excuse. Thankfully, he didn’t press the issue.

 

Ever since he’d given up trying to get Fenris to answer the door, he’d been in the worst mood, snippy, grumpy. He hated feeling like this. It was so contrary to his natural personality that instead of saying anything, he just kept his damn mouth shut.

 

“I don’t serve oxmen! You hear me? Now leave my stall!”

 

Gabriel looked over to see a young Qunari, likely one of their scouts given his slim build, who couldn’t have been more than a year or two older than Carver, trying to plead his case with the herbalist. “Please, Ser. I only need some bundles of Spindleweed and mushroom. It’s for healing poultices.” That soft voice was definitely not the one Gabriel expected to hear from someone so tall.

 

“Get out!”

 

“I-”

 

“What’s the matter, your horns cut off your hearing? I said leave! Now, don’t make me call the guard!”

 

The young Qunari’s shoulders sagged and had it been any other day, Gabriel might have politely intervened. Today, however… He walked over and tapped him on the shoulder. “How many bundles did you need?”

 

“What?” Genuine surprise filled his face at Gabriel’s question. “A half a dozen each? We had a patrol come back ripped to shreds with Mabari bites. Our stores are too low to help them.”

 

“I don’t have that much on me, otherwise I’d give you some. But if you go to Lowtown and stop by Lady Elegant’s stall, it’s right at the bottom of the stairs from Hightown, and tell her Hawke sent you. I promise she’ll do business with you.” He glanced over his shoulder at the merchant, raising his voice making sure he’d be heard, “Then do yourself a favor and never shop at this stall again. His potions are subpar anyway. I think he loots them from corpses.”

 

“Thank you. I expected to be treated with fear, but not this poorly. You will help keep many of my people alive.”

 

Gabriel nodded as the young man hurried down the stairs.

 

“That was... unlike you,” Anders said. “You are usually so quick to diffuse-”

 

“First an Oxman now a Knife-ear! They’ll let anyone into Hightown nowadays won’t they?”

 

Gabriel turned around ready to flat out deck the man only to be stopped in his tracks by Fenris counting out coins to purchase a bundle of feverweed. As mad as he’d been with him, now it was all he could do not to rush over and scoop him up in a hug and rejoice in the fact he wasn’t dead. But first, “You sure have a way with customers. Does insulting them  _ before _ they make the purchase work for you?”

 

When Fenris tried to hand the man the required silver, Gabriel reached out to stop him, pulling his hand back almost immediately. “I can help, and it won’t come with a side of bigotry.”

 

Fenris glanced at him before casting his eyes to the ground. “It’s good to see you, Gabriel. I- had the worst headache yesterday. I get them sometimes, but I used up the last of my poultices. I was trying to replenish my stores, but  _ this _ man had to be difficult.”

 

Gabriel looked right at the merchant when he said, “I have several plants growing in my courtyard. Stop by and pick all the feverweed you need.”

 

His relief was short-lived, however, because less than five minutes into their trip across Hightown, Anders and Fenris began to bicker the way they  _ always _ did. Honestly, it was the main reason he seldom brought the both of them along anywhere. But when the conversation turned into gossip, Gabriel felt his patience wear thin.

 

“So, maybe it’s just me, maybe it’s a coincidence, but I couldn’t help but notice you and Hawke were both no-shows for the past week. You didn’t come to the Hanged Man for cards. Now you looked like a kicked Mabari. So what was it? Did he refuse your advances?” 

 

Gabriel didn’t need to turn around to know Anders looked smug; he could hear it in his voice.

 

“It wasn’t- it was the other way around. Whatever, it’s done now.”

 

“Impossible. Have you met Hawke? Who in their right mind would reject him? I know I wouldn’t.”

 

“Says the abomination. Rejecting offers doesn't seem in your nature. And you say that like leaving after was an easy thing to do. It wasn’t.”

 

“That would explain why he looks like he’s about ready to break something. Awfully rude to come along with us today if you ask me.”

 

That was it. He couldn’t do this today. Couldn’t face Fenris today, couldn’t stand they way they argued. “Oh would you two just shut up?” he snapped. “Can you not spend one hour in each other’s company without picking fights? Better yet, how about you stop talking about me like I’m not standing right here?” 

 

Varric grabbed his elbow. “You okay, Firecracker?”

 

Gabriel shook his head. “No. I am not okay. Every time we bring them both along it’s the same. For once, I just want…” He rubbed his temples. “It’s bad enough he left even after I begged him to wait until morning when it was safer, or that he ignored every attempt I made for a week and a half to make sure he was still breathing and not dead in an alley filled with knife wounds, but no, now he has to be so flippant about talking about how hard it was to leave like I was some type of desperate one-night tryst!” For whatever reason, saying that aloud was a kick in the gut. It felt like the truth, maybe it was. Self-realization, after all, had never been his strong suit, always took him a while. “Oh Maker, I was _. _ That’s  _ all _ I was. I-” his voice cracked. “I-” his chest tightened, pulse quickened, and the world felt like it was closing in on him. “I-”

 

“Whoa there,” Varric said, though his voice sounded as though he was speaking underwater and too slow. “Are you…”

 

Whatever he said next, Gabriel couldn’t understand, because he couldn’t think over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears. “I- I can’t do this today. I’m... You’re in charge today. I... have... to go.” He turned and beat a hasty retreat back to his estate, crashing into several edifices along the way. 

 

When he crashed through the front door, he was relieved to see the entryway and front room empty save for the vase of fresh white flowers sitting atop the writing desk. Whatever, he couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment. Right then, he wanted- no, needed to get out of this stifling armor. Piece by piece he cast it aside as he stumbled up the stairs. The door rattled as he slammed it, leaning against it, heels of his palms pressed to his eyes.

 

_ Can’t be true, wasn’t, isn’t _ \- Anger and panic coursed through his veins, fear in his brain.  _ Stop it! You’re wrong, Gabriel. Think about something else. Puppies, flowers, sunshine, he used you, meant nothing. No. Stop! Claw it out, rip it out! _ His chest heaved with each deep breath, but he felt like he wasn’t getting any air at all.

 

The room spun. Each step toward his bed took all the effort he could muster.

 

_ Should have been you to catch the blight in the Deep Roads. Think of how much easier everyone’s lives would be. _

 

“Stop it!” he shouted to himself, to anyone, to no one at all. 

 

“You’re wrong, Gabriel. You’re wrong. Don’t do this to yourself,” he pleaded as he flopped onto the bed, rolling onto his back. 

 

_ Why are you like this? Why can’t you be brave like Carver? You big baby. Afraid of the world. _

 

He grabbed his pillow and screamed into it.

 

The thought that his affection might have been used against him, that he himself had been used was too much. Even if, in his heart, he knew it couldn’t be true, his head always had this way of making him fear the worst. He burst into tears which the pillow muffled, but only barely.

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

 

Track Listing:

Scenes 1-2: “Hurt”- 2 Cellos

Scenes 3-4: “I’ll Take Care of You”: Beth Hart & Joe Bonamassa

 

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. Why was Gamlen in his house? His uncle had made it abundantly clear he wanted all of them out of  _ his _ house. Maker! Was he arguing with Sandal? 

 

“Le-and-ra! Where is Leandra?”

 

“Enchantment?”

 

“No, not enchantment! Leandra!”

 

Gabriel straightened his posture and squared his shoulders; he did not want to deal with this right now. But when needs must. “Stop yelling at Sandal. He won’t be able to answer you the way you want. And it's just mean.”  He crossed his arms, refusing to say another word. He could only hope Gamlen understood what he wanted.

 

Thankfully...mercifully (Gabriel couldn’t decide which) Gamlen took the hint, throwing up his hands in frustration. “Yes, sorry, Sandal, was it? Sorry, I yelled at you. Gabriel, have you seen your mother today?”

 

Gabriel scratched his brow. “I just got back into town an hour ago. I’ve been gone for a week. I have no idea where Mother is.”

 

“We were supposed to meet for lunch, but she never showed.”

 

“I’m sure she just got busy.” Even as the words left his mouth, Gabriel didn’t believe them.

 

From the doorway into the kitchen, Bodhan cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I couldn’t help but overhear. Messere Leandra might have gone to meet her suitor.”

 

Suitor? That was news to him. 

 

“Yes, Ser. She received another bouquet this morning. I assumed she’d gone to meet him.”

 

Gamlen didn’t seem convinced, and truth be told Gabriel didn’t eith- Wait. He rubbed his temples, wracking his brain for a hint of recollection. On the table by the fireplace sat a crystal vase filled with white lilies. 

 

Oh no.

 

No. No. No. He couldn’t deal with this on top of everything else. Not with his mind still reeling that the Grey Wardens had kidnapped his father and forced him to use blood magic to keep an ancient darkspawn caged. Not when fighting said darkspawn had almost killed him, killed all of them. Hell, Fen had been nursing a slow healing wound in his upper arm because that asshole Corypheus had sent a pillar of ice flying at him, ripping a hole in both his armor and arm. 

 

“Gamlen, go check Lowtown for her. I will grab Aveline and guards to search Hightown. I will meet you down there with some of my friends to help search. Please, be careful of all the damn gangs.” The panic in his voice was evident, and though he gave no more details, Gamlen wasted no time. If Gabriel had to guess, his expression must have matched his tone. 

 

Small victories.

 

Once Gamlen had left, he filled Bodhan in, with the explicit instructions that should his mother return, that he was to do everything he could to keep her from leaving the estate. Once outside, he flagged down the nearest Guardsman on duty. Perhaps it was his frantic raving that made her run inside the keep to wake Aveline. Or perhaps she had been filled in on Ser Emeric’s case. Whatever the reason, he and Aveline swung by Fenris’ estate before leaving Hightown.

 

As they hurried for Lowtown, he wished Merrill or Anders was on the way to that foundry...it had to be the same place. Having a mage along would stack the odds more in their favor. As it was, with Varric and Isabela along maybe they stood a chance.

 

***

 

It felt like he’d been stabbed in the chest. Gabriel could hardly breathe when he saw what that monster had done to his mother. She was pale. Too pale. Those weren’t his mother’s hands. She was too tall. It took everything he had not to empty his stomach on the floor. 

 

His feet rooted themselves in the dirt, refusing to move even as Quentin began to cast a spell, even as Gabriel felt the energy tug at him, pulling blood from his body. It finally took a not-too-gentle shove from Fenris and a ‘Gabriel, move!’ for him to be able to move or even breathe, and when he did it came with a gasp and a stumble. 

 

Swords clashed against stone as they bounced off walking skeletons. The telltale thunk of Bianca firing another bolt cut through the shrill noise of shades. From behind him, he heard Isabela taunting a desire demon from the sound of it. And through it all, he heard the battle-cry he knew came with a spirit pulse from Fenris. Regardless of everything happening around him, however, his vision had tunneled in and locked on Quentin. Though he might not have been a proficient user of it, Gabriel had been around magic all his life. He knew what a barrier looked like as it began to break down.

 

Five.

Four.

 

Three.

 

Just before he counted down to about two seconds remaining on Quentin’s protective shield, Gabriel plucked a blackout grenade from his belt and chucked it at him. The moment the flask left his fingers, he was running with everything he had at Quentin. By some miracle or fantastic timing, he ducked under his arm just as the grenade hit, shrouding everything around them in total darkness. The black cloud of smoke would only hang in the air for at most five seconds.

 

For Gabriel, five seconds was more than enough time. Both daggers tore into Quentin’s back, knocking him to the ground. Perhaps it was a moment of madness. Perhaps it was overkill. Likely it was both. He just kept thrusting his knives into the dead man on the ground. It took the strength of both Fenris  _ and _ Aveline to pull Gabriel off Quentin. Blood clung to his cuirass. He swore he could hear it drip off the metal scales and onto the dirt.  Sharp tipped fingers brushed against his cheeks, and it took a few moments for him to register Fenris was wiping Quentin’s blood off his face.

 

Though it felt like an eternity, in hindsight, Gabriel guessed it was only seconds from when the battle ended and he caught his mother’s body as the magic keeping her upright dissipated. She looked up him, her warm, brown eyes, clouded over. 

 

“I knew you’d find me,” she croaked, her voice raspy and thin.

 

“I was too slow. Maybe if we’d found you sooner I-”

 

His mother’s hands brushed against his cheek- no, those weren’t  _ her _ hands. He refused to think they were. “Shh. No. Don’t blame yourself.”

 

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, “If I don’t who will? Someone has to.”

 

“No. No, they don’t. I’m sorry. I- Bethany’s death wasn’t your fault, my sweet, boy. I should never have said that to you.”

 

Gabriel tried to brush his tears away with the back of his hand and averted his eyes. He couldn’t look at the macabre state in which Quentin had left her, but she turned his face to meet hers. 

 

“That was not your fault.  _ This _ was not your fault. I get to see your father again... and Bethany. But you’ll be all alone.” 

 

He felt that familiar, spiked, gauntlet grip his shoulder, and his mother looked up at Fenris. “He tries so hard to take care of everyone. So please take care of my boy. He worries too much about everything… all the time.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Maybe we can help you. I have healing potions. I have anoth-”

 

She cupped his cheek once more. “Not this time, Darling. I love you. You’ve always made me so proud.” Then, her fingers slipped away and she fell silent.

 

He gave her a gentle shake. “Mother! No, no, no. Don’t go, please. We can help you!” But there was nothing. This was a dream it had to be. He screwed his eyes shut as tears streamed down his face. The reality of everything hit him when he opened them only to find his mother still dead in his arms. His shoulders began to quake when crying turned to heaving sobs.

  
  


***

  
  


In his head, Fenris had rehearsed everything he wanted to say, everything he  _ should _ say on the somber walk back from Lowtown. Though it had pained him greatly to leave Gabriel’s side in a moment like that, Aveline was right, they needed to wait for the rest of the authorities to come, one to retrieve Leandra’s body and two, to inform whatever Templar officer Meredith dispatched the murderer was dead and there was no longer a dangerous blood mage roaming Kirkwall. 

 

But the moment he stepped into Gabriel’s room, every word he planned to say fell by the wayside. Seeing him like that, Fenris knew there was  _ nothing _ he could say to ease the pain. Still, lurking in the doorway watching him sob into his hands wouldn’t do either. “I’m sorry; I don’t really know what to say. But I am here for you. What can I do to help? What do you need?”

 

Gabriel lifted his head from his heads to look at him. He licked his lips then let out a wet and broken laugh. “I don’t even fucking know anymore. A hug?”

 

Fenris sat down beside him on the bed, draping an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. “They say death is not the end. It’s a journey.”

 

“The Chantry says you join the Maker when you die. So at least she’s not alone. But... that doesn’t help much, does it? You see, death doesn’t happen to you. It’s all the people you leave behind it affects. So I’m sure they mean for those words to comfort. It’s a lie; they don’t.”

 

“To be honest, I don’t think filling this moment with platitudes will help.”  He gave Gabriel’s shoulder a squeeze. Though he anticipated it when Gabriel turned and dropped his head onto Fenris’ shoulder it still took him by surprise. Rubbing his back as he sobbed was all Fenris could do. He felt helpless.

 

***

 

“You stayed?” Gabriel’s voice, heavy with sleep and wrought with exhaustion roused him. When had he drifted off? It was still dark the last he could remember as he lay there watching Gabriel sleep beside him, prepared to offer his shoulder once more if needed. He also lay there dreading a repeat of the last time he was in this bed, for the return of memories to come flooding back.

 

But they didn’t. 

 

So when his body finally gave into fatigue, he welcomed sleep. There had been no nightmares, no lingering memory of pain. Just sleep.

 

Gabriel glanced down between them where, sometime in the night, their hands had intertwined. Like yanking a hand away from a scalding pot, he tried to pull away. “I’m sorry; I wasn’t-”

 

Fenris stopped him, giving his hand a squeeze. “It’s all right. Perfectly fine. I... no other memories returned. I-” He ran his thumb over the back of Gabriel’s hand. “This is nice.” He found himself surprised by just how true that was and wondered if  _ this _ between them, whatever it was, just needed to be approached at a slower pace. Despite the unwelcome and fleeting return of memories, how he felt about Gabriel hadn’t changed. Now was not the time, however, to bring up such things. His ears twitched. “I think Orana is making you something for breakfast.”

 

With a world-weary sigh, Gabriel rolled onto his back, staring up at the canopy above his bed. “I don’t think I have much of an appetite.”

 

Fenris sat up, stretched his stiff limbs, and looked down at him. “No, I can’t imagine that you do, but you still need to eat. Wait here. I’ll go grab you something.” He stood and walked towards the bedroom door, almost tripping over a boot.

 

“Fen?”

 

“Hmm,” he said, looking over his shoulder.

 

“Thank you. You stayed and made sure I was fine, even though I didn’t ask you to.”

 

Fenris walked over and pressed his forehead to Gabriel’s. “I told your mother I would, and even if I hadn’t- You don’t need to thank me.”

 

Downstairs, his hearing proved correct when he found Orana in the kitchen. “Good Morning. I don’t think Gabriel will be coming down for breakfast. Do you know if they have a tray so I can take him some food?”

 

Her brows furrowed, deep in thought. “Oh yes, I do believe I saw one in that cabinet up there when Serah Hawke helped me put dishes away. Can you reach it for me, and I will put a plate together? Or two. Will you be staying for breakfast?”

 

He pulled the serving tray in question down from the overhead cupboard. “That would be kind. Thank you, Orana.”

 

She sniffled as she placed a few slices of soft cheese, fresh fruit and a couple bowls of porridge onto the tray. “Do you like tea, Serah? I picked up some Rivaini tea at the market last week.”

 

Serah? No one other than Varric had ever called him Serah, and that time had been in jest. Were it any day before yesterday his chest would have swelled with pride. “I do. Thank you, though you needn’t call me Serah. I’m an elf. I have no title.”

 

He watched her wipe her damp eyes with the back of her hand. “I didn’t know her long, but Mistress Leandra seemed like a lovely woman, kind. She often accompanied me to the market, made sure no one spoke to me unkindly.”

 

“She taught me how to bake bread.”

 

Orana handed him a tray. “Will you please tell him I am sorry about his mother? I don’t wish to disturb him.”

 

“I will. Thank you.”

 

He found Gabriel sitting in bed when he returned. “Do you need to talk about anything?”

 

Gabriel reached for a teacup, holding it between his hands. Steam curled up out of the glass, and he stared at it for a long while before he spoke. “This house feels too big without her in it. What need do I have for a place this large?”

 

Fenris sat down beside him, plucking an apple from the tray. “I suppose I could ask myself the same thing.”

 

To say he was surprised to see the tiny, crooked smile that tugged at the corner of Gabriel’s mouth would be an understatement.

 

“Yes, I suppose you could, and your home is larger than mine.”

 

Fenris offered him a bite of his apple, but Gabriel declined. “Perhaps you should start adopting orphans... or stray Mabari.” He wasn’t expecting to elicit a laugh out of him, but the soft chuckle was music to his ears, even if it carried an undertone of sadness. 

 

“I don’t think Barkley would like competing for table scraps. As for orphans… someday perhaps.” Gabriel sighed and sat his teacup down on the bedside table. “Is it wrong that I pity him?”

 

“Who?”

 

“Quentin.”

 

“I-”

 

“I know he was a murderer. I know he did terrible things. But I think I can understand where he was coming from, even if he was wrong.” He plucked at a loose thread in the blanket beneath him. “His wife died, and he was unable to cope. Maybe if there had been someone to help him through that, then he might not have resorted to those heinous deeds. I hate him, but I pity him.”

 

When Gabriel continued to pull at the string, Fenris covered his hand with his own. “No, I don’t think that’s wrong. Remember when we rescued that girl, Lia from Kelder? She didn’t want us to hurt him. I’ll say to you what I told her. Your pity is admirable albeit misplaced. He doesn’t deserve _any_ kindness from you.” 

 

When they had finished their meal, and Fenris couldn’t help but notice Gabriel only ate two maybe three bites of his porridge, he sat the tray on the writing desk. By the time he’d returned to the bed, Gabriel had burrowed under the blankets. Fenris understood; he too, felt exhaustion in his bones. The yawn that followed gave him away, and Gabriel lifted the blankets in invitation.

 

“Join me? I hear sleep is essential.”

 

Fenris obliged him but not without a roll of his eyes first. “I’m glad she apologized to you about Bethany...in the end,” he said as he rolled onto his side to face him.

 

“You knew about that?”

 

“She mentioned it once over tea, said it ate at her. I would hate for you to go the rest of your life thinking it was true.”

 

“Yeah. In the end,” he sniffled and then fell silent for a long while. If Fenris hadn’t been facing him, he would have thought he’d fallen asleep.

 

Finally, though either the silence or the weight of the words on his tongue got the better of him. “I know I shouldn’t even be thinking about this, but I can’t help it.” He licked his lips. “Do you think it- was it us lying together that brought your memories back? Because if so… I don’t need it. I mean… it was great, and it’s certainly a nice bonus, but... I don’t need that. Not if it hurts you. I’d gone without for years before.”

 

Fenris’ eyebrows rose on his forehead. He couldn’t be hearing him correctly. It was certainly an odd thing to bring up at that moment, he conceded to himself.

 

When he remained silent, Gabriel continued, “I just thought I should say something. If that was the reason, I’m sorry I hurt you. If it was what I said... well again I’m sorry I caused you anguish, but I’m not sorry I said it. I won’t, can’t apologize for loving you. But if either of those things was what caused it and are what is preventing us from being together--if I’ve inferred correctly it is something we both wanted, well want--I just want you to know I’ll wait.”

 

No, Fenris most certainly had heard correctly. “Are you sure you know what you’re offering?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’ll wait for me? For how long?”

 

“That’s up to you. If you still wanted it, then I propose we take this the way you need it to go. You make the rules. I’m both feet in the water, Fen. You know where I stand. If you want to push the boundaries sometime, push them. I’m here. If it means even the slightest chance I get to be yours, it’s worth it.” He paused,  brows furrowed. “One thing though. Don’t ignore me again, not like you did. Please don’t do that. You heard my mother, I worry about everything all the time. So if you ever just need a day where you see no one? Say so, through the door even. Just say, ‘Not today, Gabe.’ You don’t even have to open the door if you don’t want to. It’s... when you wouldn’t answer anyone- Look, I expect the worst about so many things and sometimes… that fear it gets so loud in my head…” he ran a hand through his hair. “You know how when we’re out adventuring or what have you, and you look over your shoulder almost constantly, even though you’re sure there’s no one there to get you?”

 

Fenris nodded, though he was surprised anyone noticed.

 

“Yes, of course, I noticed. That’s kind of the same thing. I knew. I  _ knew _ why you left. I understood it, accepted it, even if it hurt. But well, it was a bad day, that day in the market. So my mind decided to kick me when I was down and taunt me into feeling like I’d been used and discarded. Even though I knew it wasn’t true, I couldn’t stop myself from thinking it. Am I- I feel like I’m rambling.”

 

Fenris pressed his index finger to Gabriel’s lips. “You’re not rambling.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t sleep, not really. It’s hard for me to fall asleep because I have to stay alert. Any moment, Danarius or his mercenaries might come for me. That’s how I feel anyway. So when I finally manage to drift off, the slightest noise will wake me. Sometimes all I can think about is the pain these markings first caused. I almost attacked you when you grabbed me because in that moment, I didn’t see you, I saw a slaver trying to recapture me. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I hadn’t come to my senses.”

 

“It was my fault. Unlike all the other things I blame myself for, that one is deserved.”

 

“When I was on Seheron, I met a man, a Qunari who reminded me of myself. He was Ben-Hassrath, a spy so to speak, and I would see him fishing often. One day, I joined him on the bank, and we had a long conversation. He told me about himself, and in turn, I talked to him a little about what I’d been through. He said the Qunari have this term, asala-taar. It translates to soul-sickness. Their soldiers sometimes suffer this, those on Seheron especially. They get jumpy, have troubles sleeping, always feeling like danger could come at any minute so much that they constantly watched their back waiting for a knife in it. It opened my eyes that there could be someone feeling the way I did.”

 

Gabriel disentangled their fingers and brushed the hair from Fenris’ face. “Look at us, a couple of guys with minds who like to punish them.”

 

“It seems so.”

 

“What a pair we make.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**** Track Listing:

Scenes 1-3: “Miasma”- Ghost

Scene 4: “Out of Line”- Device with Serj Tankian and Geezer Butler

Scene 5: “Arctic”- Sleeping At Last

 

Gabriel dodged a spear thrown in his direction, knocking it away with a dagger. Behind him, the clash of metal on metal as Fenris and Aveline battled the Sten of this particular group of furious Qunari rang out in the Lowtown night. Arrows rained down in well-placed shots from Varric. They were exhausted, clawing their way up from the Docks only to find more Qunari--honestly, how’d they get this far this fast?--this time joined by Elven supporters no doubt tired of their lot in life.

 

They were running low on health potions, and he’d rather save the four they did have for serious injuries. Yet, if he couldn’t, if someone  _ couldn’t _ take out that Saarebas and soon, they were done for. From his belt, he plucked a flask and chucked it at him, hoping, praying, that the barrier broke before it landed. Truth be told, he hadn’t seen when the barrier had gone up, nor could he hear the crackle of magic he’d come to associate with it. 

 

Fucking Saarebas! Why were they all so proficient in storm magic? The static buzz of lightning obscured most of the battle noise, made it hard to tell from what direction spears were coming. The cascade of glass rained down on the Saarebas as the bottle connected. Unfortunately, in the chaos of battle, Gabriel had grabbed an acid flask. Shit! He’d thought it was a grenade of fire. The fuck was acid going to do to a man whose whole torso was covered in toxic paint?

 

In his focus on the Saarebas, Gabriel failed to see a Karashok coming for him until it was too late to react. Could he roll out of the way in time? Doubtful. Shit! Shit! Double shit! A wall of muscle and momentum barreled into him, and he was thrown to the ground. He had no time to roll or get to his feet. As the sword came crashing down towards him, he screwed his eyes shut. He had no desire to watch the deathblow come.

 

Clang!

 

Shocked, he glanced up to see Fenris blocking the sword with the shaft of his maul, brows furrowed as he strained against not only the Qunari’s greater strength but heavier mass. “No! I will not allow it!” His whole body pulsed bright blue; it gave him enough to overpower the Karashok, pushing him back... right into Aveline’s sword.

 

It wasn’t often that he came that close to being face to face with his own mortality. Panting and prickly with panic, he lay flat on his back trying to calm his racing heart and mind.  _ In for four. Out for eight. In for f- _

 

Metallic hands cupped his cheeks, bringing his face to center. “Are you hurt?” Fenris asked.

 

Gabriel shook his head; he didn’t trust his voice at the moment. He knew he had to keep his head in this fight, but well... sometimes his head was a traitorous asshole who didn’t listen. Fenris grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. Then he did it again. “I’m…”  _ Deep breath. _ “I’m all right, Fen.” 

 

Still holding his hand, Fenris helped him to his feet. “What happened? You’re usually so focused and at thinking ten steps ahead.”

 

“I threw the wrong grenade,” he said as if that explained everything, which it clearly did not, given Fenris’ quirked eyebrow. “It was supposed to be fire. With fire, comes smoke, and with smoke comes an opportunity to flank.” He gestured at the dead Karashok on the ground, “Acid is useless on them. I didn’t have a chance to react or even notice  _ that _ guy.”

 

“Please be more careful, Gabriel.”

 

“I will do my best.”

 

From somewhere behind them, came the rattle of an empty bottle. They all froze, hands on their weapons, poised to attack. When no immediate threat appeared, nor did a skittish cat bolt out from behind the barrel, Gabriel stepped forward. The corner from which the noise had come sat shrouded in shadow, but he couldn’t imagine a Qunari being the kind to hide in the shadows rather than fight. An elf might, but what damage could one elf do to the four of them? He had a hunch that behind the barrel, might be a scared child hiding. “Hello? Who’s there?”

 

The husky voice that filled the silence was not what he expected. “I don’t want to fight. I have no weapon.” A groan, followed by a hiss of pain. “I’m injured. I will understand if you don’t wish to help me, but I am no threat to you.”

 

“We’ll see about that,” Aveline said.

 

A Qunari, slim and on the short side, stood from behind the barrel. Though his face was still a bit too dark to see, his hands were empty. “Please. I mean you no harm. I…” another hiss, and he pressed his hand to his abdomen. “I’ve been trying to leave for years. This was the first real opportunity I have. When the fight broke out, I got separated. Not on purpose, but- then I was attacked. This was the only place I could find to hide.” He took a step forward.

 

“Wait. I remember you. In the market. You helped me.” He leaned against the stone, tall horns scraping against the wall. Now that Gabriel could see him better, he could see the wanness of his face.

 

“Where are you hurt?” Gabriel held up a hand to stop his friends’ notes of concern. “He needs help. I can’t just walk away and leave him to die.” He turned back to the Qunari. “How bad?”

 

“My side. I got stabbed with something. It’s... not too deep I don’t think. A poultice and a bandage should do until I can get to a healer.”

 

Gabriel pulled a roll of clean cloth from his small pouch and the necessary poultice. “Could you move your armor for me? Thanks.” He pressed the sachet of herbs and balm to the knife wound in the Qunari’s side. “There had to be safer ways to leave then this.”

 

“No,” he said drinking from the water skein Fenris offered, “not for me. Maybe for fighters.”

 

“But isn’t that what you are?” Fenris asked. “You’re a member of the Beresaad are you not?”

 

Together, they were able to get him to his feet. “Yes, but it’s not what I wanted.  _ They _ made me kill. I never wanted to be this."

 

“Aveline, can we make a detour?” He didn’t expect her to say yes, but she did and they made the slow trip to the Alienage because he thought it might be the one place the Qunari left alone. No sense attacking those on the lowest wrung

 

“What  _ did _ you want to be?” Varric asked before grumbling about stepping in a pile of...something and ruining his boots.

 

“When I was a kid, I wanted to make things. Make fine clothes for people. I was good at it too. Sewed little dressed for my dolls. But then they gave me a bow.”

 

“And?”

 

“I was better with the bow. They gave me a bow and said, ‘You are one of the Beresaad now.’ Everything I was or saw for myself was gone.”

 

Fenris groaned under the strain of extra weight as they went down the stairs. “I know what that’s like. Having no choice, being made to kill.”

 

“If you asked the Arishok, he’d say I did have a choice. I had a choice to be or to not. Qunari like him don’t understand though. I’d have rather not be at all if I had to keep living that life.”

 

Gabriel rapped on Merrill’s front door, “Merrill, it’s Hawke.” He heard her call from inside, and when she answered in her night clothes, a shawl wrapped around her, he regretted coming down here rather than somewhere else. “Sorry to wake you up. We need your help.”

 

“Of course, Lethallin. Get in off the street. I heard some elves shout about the Qunari attack- Oh.” Her eyes fell on their wounded acquaintance. “What do you want me to do with…” she gestured at him then to a chair. “Sit him down here. Let me get some water. You know, Hawke, I’m no healer.”

 

“I know. But you are closer than Darktown. I have a poultice and clean bandages on the wound. He wants to flee the Qun. We found him injured. He needs help.”

 

Merrill handed him a glass of water. “What’s your name? Do the Qunari have names? I thought they didn’t- I’ll just stop now.”

 

“Ashaa-” There was a moment of silence before he said it again with more conviction. “Asha.”

 

“Are you hungry? I have some bread.” 

  
Asha groaned and shifted in the chair. “I’m fine.”

 

“Anyway, Merrill, I was hoping you could keep him here for the time being. We need to get to the Keep and he’s in no condition to-”

 

“Stop that,” Asha snapped. “Stop saying that.”

 

Gabriel’s brows furrowed. “I’m sorry? I don’t understand.”

 

“Under the Qun... if you fight you are a man. They look at you and give you a weapon and now you are a man. Even if you’re not. They tell you that you are, and you either accept or you don’t. Asit tal-eb. Our women are artisans. They make things. They take care of the children. They do not fight.”

 

Aveline pinched the bridge of her nose. “That’s ridiculous. What happens when one of your women is most skilled at fighting?”

 

“Then she becomes part of the Beresaad and is no longer woman. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, you can see me, see how I look, how I sound, and in your lands, you’d call me a man too. I’m not, never was. Even though I look like one. I wanted to make things because  _ there _ I could be me not Ashaad,” the name fell off her lips like venom. “ _ That’s _ the reason I wanted to leave the Qun. I was tired of being aqun-athlok, having to dress like this, be called Ashaad, be called  _ man _ .”

 

Realization finally dawned on Gabriel, hitting him in the gut with guilt. “Oh! I’m so sorry! I had no idea.”

 

Asha looked at him. “No one does. That’s the problem, and my role under the Qun wasn’t helping. I guess I you could say I should have turned myself in to be re-educated, but how long would it take for me to be trying to claw my way out from the inside again.”

 

Fenris said something in Qunlat, and Asha’s eyebrows rose. “Your accent. You’re from Seheron? So far South. But thank you.”

 

Gabriel leaned over and whispered, “What did you say?”

 

“I said I would never suggest  _ anyone _ go through re-education.”

 

He nodded. “RIght. I would love to stay, but Keep to storm city to save. You know how it goes. Merrill, a word.”

 

Once separated from the group, he turned to her. “Are you okay?”

 

“With this? Yes. I can keep an eye on her wound.”

 

“No, I meant with everything. How are you holding up?”

 

Merrill wrapped her shawl tighter around herself. “Oh, you meant Isabela. I’m hurt. I know why she left, but that doesn’t explain why she didn’t take me with her. She didn’t even leave me a note, or say goodbye. I thought I mattered to her.”

 

He rubbed her upper arm. “You did; you do. Who knows, maybe she’ll come back and then you can make her beg for forgiveness. Be safe, Merrill. Don’t open your door for anyone else. Who knows what chaos might spread to the Alienage.”

 

She shooed him away. “I’ll be fine. Go. Stop this madness.”

 

***

 

“Somehow, I knew it would be you.”

 

“Carver!” Gabriel didn’t care that they were both covered in the blood of who knows how many Qunari, he still ran over and pulled him into as tight an embrace as the armor would allow. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you!” he said taking Carver’s face in his hands to squish his cheeks, an act Carver was none too happy about.

 

“Stop that.”

 

“Are you injured? I have... one healing potion. It’s yours if you need it.”

 

Carver shook his head with a small laugh. “I never thought I would say this, but I missed you. Good to see you, big brother.”

 

“And you.”

 

The Warden officer came to stand by Carver. “You have our sincere thanks. This attack was most unexpected.”

 

Gabriel scrunched his face up in polite disagreement. “Mmmmm but was it though?” He shook his head. “No, not really. The Arishok was just looking for an excuse, and surprise! An excuse.”

 

“We must return to our mission. We have already delayed too long. I wish you luck,” the officer said, and the group turned to leave.

 

“Carver, wait! I have to tell you about Mother.”

 

Carver’s face dropped. “I... Gamlen wrote me and told me. Though he was vague on the details, I know you did your best. If ... I mean... It wasn’t your fault, and I don’t blame you.”

 

As they walked away, Gabriel shouted, “I’m proud of you, Carver! Don’t forget that.”

 

***

  
  


“I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,” Varric shouted over the mayhem as more Qunari appeared, seemingly from nowhere, “where do they all keep coming from when they attack us like this? They’re like the Invisible Sisters but... bigger.” Bianca’s ka-chunk as she fired a bolt into an unsuspecting Karashok, somehow managed to resonate above the commotion.

 

“What I want to know is why is it always a Saarebas we can’t seem to kill?” Gabriel dropped a miasmic flask and zipped around his foe to get him in the back. Not once, not twice, but four times... and then once more just to be safe. Once the Qunari had hit the pavement, Gabriel moved on to the next, somehow always keeping Fenris in his peripheries.

 

If he were to ask him, Fenris would say he was being reckless by not keeping his attention on the enemy he was fighting. He couldn’t help it. Even though along with Aveline, Fenris was the one of their little group that could do and sustain the most damage, Gabriel couldn’t help but worry. 

 

“You go through me before anyone else!” Aveline said from across the quarter.

 

One by one, the Qunari began to die off and dwindle. Not that Saarebas though. “Why won’t he just die, Hawke? I’ve shot him at least a dozen times. Are they trained in self-healing too?”

 

“Why are you asking me?” Gabriel threw another grenade at the Saarebas, but that only slowed him down. He was down to his last two grenades, and he plucked one from his belt. Good thing they would pass right by his house on the way to the keep. He had an easy to reach stash right in front of the door.

 

The flask collided with him, and as Gabriel suspected, the Lightning in a Bottle did little damage. As the Saarebas started his energy blast spell, a bright blue flash of light exploded in the marketplace, knocking them all to the ground. When he looked up, he saw a Templar of all people. She extended a hand to help Gabriel up off the stone.

 

“I am Knight-Commander Meredith.” She studied his face. “I know you Your name has turned up in my reports far too many times for my liking. That, however, is unimportant right now. The Qunari are dragging people to the Keep, and we must help.”

 

“The Qunari don’t seem like the kind to take hostages.”

 

From his place right beside Gabriel, Fenris said, “They are going to take anyone important, put them in the same room. If you agree to convert, you live. If not…”

 

Gabriel squared his shoulders and straightened his posture. Meredith had this way of making him feel tiny in comparison. “Whatever is necessary to defend my home, I am willing to do.”

 

“Good. I’ll overlook your use of magic...for the moment.”

 

Magic? He didn’t…oh. Grenades, right. He took his last one from his belt. “What? You mean this? Don’t tell me you can’t tell the difference between magic and a grenade.” He shook the flask violently to obscure the fact he needed to use magic to charge it. Once it began to glow an eerie purple hue on the inside, he chucked it across the quad where it exploded in a ring of lightning. Then, he gestured to the arcing energy, “See, grenade? Glitterdust works wonders.” He turned to his friends. “Let’s get to the Keep, and swing by my house to restock potions on the way.”

 

When Meredith was out of earshot, Fenris turned to him. “You didn’t use magic did you?”

 

“Nope, I mean, not besides charging the grenade. I honestly, don’t know what she was thinking, because priming it isn’t really visible if you don’t know if needs it. At least I don’t think it is. What do you think? Was I convincing?”

 

Rather than say anything right away, Fenris wiped a drop of blood from Gabriel’s face. For someone who claimed to not trust or care about people, Fenris could be so soft and tender when he wanted. Or, then again, Gabriel thought, maybe he was just that way with him. “Can’t say. I think you did fine, but whether or not she believed you remains to be seen.”

 

***

 

“Since you know, Serah Hawke, that I am forbidden from returning to Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found, what would you have me do?”

 

Before Gabriel could formulate what was sure to be a paltry, half-assed reply, the throne room’s door flew open. The Qunari guarding the door fell to the floor. Then, as if she hadn’t left them high and dry less than a week ago, Isabela swaggered in like nothing had happened, with what he could only assume was the Tome of Koslun tucked under her arm.

 

“I think I can help with that,” she said, stepping over the fallen Qunari. No, wait, she stepped  _ on _ the Qunari like a stool rather than walk over him. So excessive.

 

He was torn. On one hand, he was furious with her, for not only putting them in this position and causing the death of innocents, but also furious on  _ behalf _ of Merrill. He’d been the one whose chest Merrill had cried into for hours after Isabela left. But on the other hand, he was so damn happy to see his friend.  

 

“As you can see, it’s mostly undamaged.”

 

_ Mostly?! _ This was a priceless relic, as Fenris had noted the most sacred item under the Qun, and it was  _ mostly _ undamaged. Why in the Void wouldn’t she treat it like it was made of glass? Then again, he was always cautious with his books almost to the point of obsessive. He had to stop and remember books weren’t always prized possessions to others.

 

“It took me a while to get back... so much fighting in the streets.”

 

He turned, ready to yell at her, but what came out instead was, “I thought you’d be bound for Llomeryn by now.”

 

She jabbed him in the breastplate. “This is  _ your  _ fault. You’re a bad influence on me. Or well, am influence for good, but bad for me. Halfway to Ostwick and I knew... had to come back. Tell me, how mad is she?”

 

“Oh, I think with some kind words, a shiny new staff, and a lot of begging…”

 

The Arishok looked at them. “With the relic reclaimed, we may return to Par Vollen...with the thief.”

 

“Wait, what?” Isabella’s jaw hit the floor.

 

“You thought you could steal the book, leave them stranded here for years, and there would be no consequence?” The derision in Fenris’ voice was thick like sludge.

 

“She will return with us.”

 

Gabriel’s brows furrowed. Man, he hated hypocrites. “You mean like how you returned the two suspected murderers to the City Guard? So what... it’s acceptable for your Viddathari to be criminals and you’ll harbor them, but Maker forbid it’s the other way around. You want justice for your stolen tome. Well, Guard Captain Aveline wanted to subject the murders to a trial. Due process.  _ You _ prevented that.”

 

“The Qun protects its own.”

 

Gabriel stared him down. “So do I.”

 

The Arishok regarded him with stern and discerning eyes. “Then you, leave no choice, basalit-an. I challenge you to a duel, to the death, with this thief as the prize.”

 

Shit.

 

While Isabela argued with the Arishok over why she should be the one to duel him, Fenris tugged Gabriel aside, gripping his spiked gauntlets so tight around his upper arms Gabriel was sure if he’d been in plain clothes, there would be bruises. Though Fenris had kept his face neutral, his eyes betrayed him. His concern had dotted itself among the greens and yellows. 

 

It seemed to take a moment for Fenris to remember where they were and all the eyes upon them. He smoothed Gabriel’s armor like a squire for his knight. “You’re smaller than him, small for a human man ev-”

 

“Oh gee thanks for reminding me.”

 

Fenris sighed, “That’s not what I meant. I don’t mind your size. In fact, I quite enjoy being eye-to-eye with you. It makes me feel equal.”

 

“As you should feel, because you are equal.”

 

“Now is not the time, Gabriel. Look, he’s big. You’re fast. Wear him down and fight dirty.”

 

Gabriel nodded, giving him a slight shrug. “That all?”

 

“Oh and I suppose you have a better idea?” he asked folding his arms across his chest.

 

“Yeah. Smoke grenade, take out his legs. Can’t fight if you can’t stand.”

 

Fenris averted his eyes. “I won’t ask you not to do this, because I know what the Qunari do to their prisoners. I’d hate to see that happen to Isabela. Jail time, sure. But not that. But please don’t die. I can’t bear the thought of watching that.” He lowered his voice.

 

Gabriel rested his forehead against Fenris’. “I’ll be fine. Trust me.”

 

He wished he felt as brave as his words suggested.

 

***

 

Fenris had never been one to nibble on his nails. There had been a few slaves Danarius owned who had developed the habit when they were stressed, but he’d been conditioned to take care of his appearance. Perhaps that was the reason neither Danarius nor Hadriana ever struck him where it would leave a mark for others to see. But now, as he watched Gabriel take on the Arishok, he understood the appeal. The cuffs of his gauntlets tucked into his belt, he chewed on his thumbnail. It kept him from shouting out for Hawke to just give the Arishok what he wanted, for one.

 

There was a natural cadence to the Arishok’s swings, that of a trained warrior. Gabriel was not even close to a trained warrior. He got in close, caused chaos, and then was gone before the foe knew what was happening. Well, as Gabriel explained once, that was the hope anyway. 

 

Fenris tried to stay positive, believe in Gabriel’s skills, but it was a nigh impossible right now. With every feint from Gabriel, the Arishok had a follow-up strike. For every quick jab that Gabriel tried, the Arishok had a block ready to counter him.

 

“I gotta say, didn’t think Hawke could be that spry.” Even Varric’s voice was fraught with concern. That didn’t surprise Fenris; the two were close friends.

 

“You know, you could always close your eyes, Fenris.” 

 

He looked over to see Isabela staring at him, a little crease between her brows.

 

“What?”

 

“If it’s too much for you to watch, you don’t have to. I know he’s important to you.”

 

Important? That’s it? No, wasn’t just important to him. He was the  _ most _ important person in his life, and there he was risking his life for someone who had lied... well no. Fenris pinched the bridge of his nose. That was over-simplifying things. It wasn’t that she’d lied about the true nature of that relic she’d been hunting. It was that her actions had caused the death of innocent people. Yet, he was conflicted, because Fenris enjoyed her company and considered her a friend. Even if Gabriel hadn’t let her run off with the book (how could he have known the importance of such a tome?), the man would still have agreed to fight in her honor. Fenris couldn’t shake the thoughts from his head or the words from his tongue. “If Gabriel dies for this, I don’t know if I’ll be able to look at you anymore. You were the one who stole it, and that might get him killed. If that happens, I want you to know I won’t forgive you, Isabela,” he said, with no anger or malice in his voice, just sincerity with a hint of unshed tears. 

 

Gabriel threw a dagger at the Arishok; it penetrated the Arishok’s greave on his left arm. It wasn’t deep enough to cause much damage other than pain, but not every wound needed to be a death-blow. All those little cuts and injuries added up.

 

Isabela lay a hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t forgive me either. If I’d have known then that I would meet people I would come to think of as family, I don’t know... maybe I wouldn’t have stolen it. For what it’s worth, I wish he wasn’t fighting this duel for me.”

 

“I can’t close my eyes, Isabela. Even if it hurts, I won’t miss a second if these are his last moments.”

 

Fenris couldn’t stay still, felt too big in his skin. Gabriel shouldn’t be doing this. It was hard to stay positive and keep his promise to trust he would be victorious when the sheer size difference alone was enough to stack the deck in the Arishok’s favor. The only skills in Gabriel’s bag of tricks that would help him win were the fact that he was fast, agile and his grenades.

 

His heart lurched into his throat as he watched Gabriel take a pommel strike to the chest, sending him staggering backward dazed, winded, and off-balance. He’d already taken the Arishok’s sword to his upper arm, and it had sliced through his armor. Rivulets of blood streamed down Gabriel’s arm onto the floor with every move he made. Across his cheek, a dark bruise had begun to bloom along with a gash that managed to be bleeding  _ more  _ than the wound on his arm.

 

The Arishok barrelled towards him, and all Fenris could think was ‘ _ This is it. This is where I lose him. _ ’ However, as Gabriel stumbled to the ground, he flung two flasks: one towards the fallen members of the Qunari honor guard and one right at the Arishok. The latter landed first, striking the Arishok in the chest and shrouding the area in a thick, black smoke. The former exploded onto the carpeting, blanketing the corpses in purple dust. Within moments, the dead Qunari rose up and began to shamble around the Arishok.

 

Huh. Walking Death. He’d know that grenade... and smell anywhere. 

 

As the Arishok fought off the reanimated corpses of his fallen comrades amidst the smoke of the Chameleon’s Breath, Fenris noticed the spot where Gabriel had previously been was now vacant. That meant somewhere in that inky fog was Gabriel. For once, his smaller stature might actually benefit him. Because if Fenris couldn’t see him, couldn’t see his head above the smoke than perhaps neither could the Arishok.

 

He swung at each corpse with great force. Swing after swing of that heavy sword had to be tiring him out. 

 

“Why don’t my smoke grenades ever last that long?” Isabela wondered aloud.

 

“Because that’s a new formula Gabriel has been working on.” Fenris had almost forgotten Varric was here with them. “He’d asked me about Dwarven explosive powders a month ago. I didn’t think he would actually put it in a grenade though.”

 

Whistles of blades moving through the air at great speed and groans of pain seemed to come from nowhere, but Fenris knew better. 

 

_ Please be okay, Gabe. I need you to make it through this. _

 

As the smoke began to clear, Gabriel reappeared right behind the Arishok, sinking both daggers with pinpoint precision, deep into his flesh in the spaces his vitaar hadn’t covered. Of course, winning wouldn’t be that easy. When had Gabriel’s luck ever been  _ that _ good? Fenris couldn’t recall a time. So, when the Arishok threw his elbow back into Gabriel’s face, it shouldn’t have come as a shock, but it did. 

 

Fenris couldn’t breathe as those seconds ticked by. When the Arishok turned on him once more, Fenris again thought he was about to watch Gabriel die right in front of him. His fear wasn’t abated when that massive sword came crashing down on Gabriel’s left shoulder. His armor had only absorbed some of the blow, and when the blade shattered the bindings holding it together, there was now nothing to protect his arm. It was only a small mercy that the two of them were too close in proximity for the Arishok to run Gabriel through.

 

Fenris staggered back, dizzy with fear and from holding his breath. His world was shrinking in on him. He’d known this type of panic before, and often it came with a blackout where he remembered little. But he couldn’t- not now- not this time. He had to watch, because if  _ he  _ was this afraid, then Gabriel had to be terrified, and maybe it was only Fenris’ eyes on him that kept him fighting.

 

Gabriel’s arm hung at an unnatural angle. The sword hadn’t cut that deep, but the force seemed to shatter the joint. Without the use of that arm, Fenris knew he couldn’t parry or block any blows. His conviction to watch no matter what was waning. 

 

In a move out of character for him, rather than back away from the Arishok, Gabriel rushed at him, left arm folded tightly against his stomach. Oh no, no, no. What was he doing? 

 

The Arishok had his blade ready to swing. The seconds turned to eons; each step Gabriel took felt like forever. Fenris reminded himself to breathe. Then, just as the Arishok began to move his sword to strike, Gabriel rolled under it right on his left shoulder. His scream of pain echoed through the room. The sound of it would give Fenris nightmares for the rest of his life.

 

However, that scream was soon followed by another of a far deeper pitch. He watched Gabriel come out of the roll directly behind the Arishok. With the force of his swing, the man’s armor had shifted as well, leaving the back of his knees exposed. It was a fact that Gabriel noticed, and he sank his remaining blade into the Arishok’s hamstring, yanking it out across the back of the leg before doing the same to the other knee. Gabriel had moved so quickly, that Fenris hadn’t even registered what he’d done until he saw the spray of blood hit Gabriel in the chest. The Arishok stumbled forward, falling onto his hands and knees.

 

As damaging an injury as that was, Fenris could see that Gabriel was running out of steam. When Gabriel looked over at him, they locked eyes, and it was clear he knew it too. In, what could only be considered a last ditch effort, Gabriel lunged forward and plunged his dagger between the Arishok’s legs and into his upper thigh, pulling it out in much the same way he had the last two wounds. Then, he stood and shuffled away, circling the man but making no further attacks. Whether he was trying to regain stamina or just waiting for the Arishok to die, Fenris couldn’t tell. But he knew one thing. Gabriel had done  _ exactly  _ what he said he would. 

 

He’d taken out the Arishok’s legs.

 

He looked woozy from pain and probably blood loss, but all things considered, Fenris thought (hoped, prayed) that he’d make it through fine. Finally, after a few minutes that passed as slow as hours, the Arishok spluttered out, “One day, we shall return,” and fell silent in a pool of his own blood.

 

Fenris was through waiting and rushed over to Gabriel, cupping the back of his head gently as he helped him drink every healing potion left on his belt. As much as he hated to do it, Fenris admitted they needed Anders’ help. He spared a look to Varric who was on the same page.

 

“I’ll bring him to Hawke’s place at once.”

 

The doors flew open and in rushed the Knight Commander and First Enchanter. “Is it over?” she asked.

 

“Through no small feat, but yes.” Gabriel’s voice was raspy almost hollow, but he managed a weak grin.

 

“You saved the city!” A man from the crowd shouted. 

 

For the life of him, Fenris couldn’t understand why the Knight Commander felt the need to scowl at Gabriel when she said, “It seems Kirkwall has a new Champion.” He didn’t understand nor did he care. 

 

Instead, he wrapped Gabriel’s right arm around his shoulders and wrapped one of  _ his _ arms around Gabriel’s waist. “Come on, Gabe. I’ll take care of you.”

 

***

 

Gabriel stirred with a groan. When he tried to sit up, every muscle in his upper back and shoulder screamed in protest. Thirsty, he was so damn thirsty. To his left, on the nightstand, sat a copper mug he hoped was full of water. However, his arm just did not seem on board with reaching for the cup. He looked down.

 

Oh.

 

His mind, still foggy from what he assumed was a combination of sleep, medicine, and healing magic, took a minute to recall events once he saw the sling holding his arm in place. Right. The Arishok. He tried to move his other arm, but couldn’t do that either. 

 

“Oh good. You’re awake. It will be much easier to have you drink this now that you’re conscious.” Anders walked over from Gabriel’s writing desk with a cup in hand. “It’s a healing mixture. I warn you...it probably tastes like a sewer.”

 

It took everything he had not to gag as soon as the medicine hit his tongue. Beside him, he felt movement and looked over to see a mop of snowy hair pinning his arm to the bed.

 

“Hasn’t left since I showed up. You’d think he’d trust a ‘mage’ enough to heal you, but as it turns out, he refused to leave your side. What did he think I was going to do? Possess you?”

 

Gabriel furrowed his brows. This was just too heavy a conversation for him at the moment. His head was pounding. “I don’t think it’s…”

 

“Honestly, I just don’t know why you are still pining after someone who left you. Or what you see in him at all. But that’s just my two coppers worth.”

 

Two coppers? Wha… That was surely not why Fenris was still here and refused to leave. Did something happen while he was out? Come to think of it...why was he out? Had he passed out on the short walk home from the Viscount’s Keep? He couldn’t remember.

 

His stomach growled.

 

“If you are sure your stomach can handle it, I can go request a light meal.”

 

Anders was gone before he could answer. Once more, he tried to pull free his right arm. This time, it roused Fenris from sleep.

 

“Mmm what…” Fenris lifted his head ever so slightly to look up at him. A soft, private smile, the kind Gabriel had come to learn were meant only for him, played on his lips. But his eyes held both fear and relief. “You- you’re...it’s good to see you awake.”

 

Finally, Gabriel could free his hand, but Fenris caught it, trailing his fingers, with tender touches, along the new pink scar on his forearm. “When you collapsed outside the Keep... I thought- I felt-” He sighed. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. How are you feeling?”

 

“I sure could use some water,” Gabriel rasped. His voice sounded as though he’d been gargling with sand.

 

Fenris was out of his chair and to the nightstand in an instant. He held the copper mug to Gabriel’s lips. 

 

“Ahhh. Thank you.” 

 

“Of course.” Fenris moved the hair from his forehead. Gabriel looked up, longing to kiss him, but he knew their boundaries. Whatever Fenris wanted, Gabriel would give him, but it was such a complicated thing the other way around. Boundaries existed for reasons, and-

 

“Would you like me to help you with your hair?” Fenris asked, cutting off his train of thought.

 

“What’s wrong with it? Did Anders have to cut it to patch me up,” he whined.

 

Fenris caught himself when he began to chuckle. “No, no nothing like that. I promise. It’s just a mess. In your face, half out of the braids. I can tie it back for you.”

 

“Don’t do that.”

 

“You don’t want me to fix your hair? Fair enough.”

 

Gabriel rubbed his forehead. “No, I mean. Yes, I do. You don’t need to stifle your laugh around me. I like hearing you laugh. There’s a comb on the shelf inside the armoire. Should be a ribbon tie was well. Thank you.”

 

With a great deal of effort, Fenris helped him to sit up against the headboard. He knelt beside Gabriel and shook the two small braids out of his hair. When the halla bone comb stuck in a tangle, Gabriel hissed. “Sorry. I, think you may still have some blood in your hair. I can help you wash it later if you’d like. But for now, I’ll just do my best not to pull too much.

 

“So, Orana made you some toast,” Anders said, walking back into the room with a serving tray. He looked over at the two of them. “Oh. I see it now, Hawke.”

 

“What?” 

 

“The answer to my earlier question. I suppose he does have his uses.”

 

Though he couldn’t see it, Gabriel could  _ feel _ Fenris’ glare radiating from him. Still, he did not engage Anders in conversation. Surely Gabriel had to have missed some important interaction while he’d been unconscious.

 

“There. That should work for now.” Fenris stood and returned the comb to the armoire. “Thank you for healing him.”

 

“What? No insult? Not going to call me an abomination?”

 

Gabriel watched as the line of Fenris’ shoulders went rigid as he shut the cabinet door. “No. You saved Gabriel, preventing him from losing his life or mobility in his arm. So no, in this instance, I am not going to speak ill.”

 

“No, but you will be thinking it.”

 

Fenris returned to his seat at Gabriel’s bedside. “Awfully presumptive to assume you know what I’m thinking right now. Policing thought. My, my what a Templar thing to do.”

 

Gabriel didn’t have the energy at the moment, to break up any argument that might ensue. So while he ate his toast, he ignored whatever staredown the pair of them were engaged in at the moment. Anders seemed to take his silence for his cue to leave, and soon, Gabriel and Fenris were alone in his room. 

 

“I apologize. I shouldn’t have engaged him in an arguement right now. This is your home, and he is _your_ friend.”

 

“No need to apologize. You should be free to speak your mind, and I enjoy listening to you talk.” He felt the flush of embarrassment rush to his cheeks. “No...that’s….what I mean is-” Fenris pressed a finger to his lips.

 

“Then I shall endeavor to always speak my mind around you.” He grabbed a small pot off the table. “Might I do something to help heal you as well? It’s not much, but this salve works well for me when I ache.” 

 

Gabriel nodded and moved down the bed enough for Fenris to sit behind him, wincing through the whole movement. The ointment was cold as Fenris rubbed it into the aching muscles of his back, and he shivered.

 

“Worry not. It will heat up. The mint and spindleweed act like a hot water bottle. Loosens tight muscles.” 

 

A comfortable silence fell between them as Fenris massaged. When he finished, Fenris sat the balm down on the nightstand and tugged Gabriel to his chest with great care. Then, he wrapped his arms around Gabriel’s chest, splaying his palm flat against the bare skin of Gabriel’s breastbone to feel his beating heart. Gabriel waited, let him have a few moments before he covered Fenris’ hand with his own.

 

“I’m still here. I’m all right, Fen.”

 

Fenris rested his chin on Gabriel’s uninjured shoulder. “I know. Sometimes one needs a physical reassurance to accept the truth.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

 

Track Listing:

Scene 1: “Gallows”- Dustin Kensrue

Scene 3: “True Colors” - Zedd with Kesha

Scene 4: “Truth”- Balmorhea

 

Gabriel shut and locked his front door, pack slung over his shoulder, filled with goodies for a special friend. Whistling a merry tune as he made his way over to see Fenris, he turned his face up to the warm midday sun. He could use a day at the shore, particularly one without bandits, Tal-Vashoth, or missing mages to find. Honestly, he was getting tired of that shit. He’d only just stepped into the Chantry courtyard when he found himself pulled into a tense argument between Meredith and Orsino.

 

“I’m sure there are some that disagree with you, Knight-Commander!” Orsino gestured at Gabriel.

 

“The Champion has proved himself a defender of this city. He will not support insurrection!”

 

Gabriel held up his hands, moving fast enough for the key on the ribbon hanging from his wrist to smack himself in the face. He rubbed his forehead, wincing, and then tried again. “Please don’t bring me into this argument which is clearly between the two of you. No matter what I say here, I am certain to upset one of you and ruin my day.” He looked at them both, eyebrows furrowed, stern. “And I am having a  _ great day  _ so far.”

 

Meredith ignored him and turned back to Orsino. “I refuse to listen to your excuses, Orsino. If this is above your ability to comprehend then perhaps you are no longer fit for your duties, First-Enchanter.”

 

Gabriel groaned and scrubbed a hand down his face. He should have pretended not to hear them. “And threatening each other is the way to solve things?”

 

“What would you have me do if not confront these accusations?” She asked.

 

“What accusations? I just got here.” 

 

Orsino answered for her, “Kirkwall fears her and her methods. Everyone does.”

 

Gabriel rose an eyebrow, putting on his most inconvenienced face. “Are you  _ trying  _ to incite rebellion? If so, you’re doing a fine job of it.”

 

“The people need to know what is  _ really _ happening!”

 

“You expect me to allow this continue?”

 

Gabriel rubbed his forehead. “Maker, I am going to regret this, but... your methods have become more extreme over the years.”

 

“Oh, I suppose you could do better?  _ You _ , who couldn’t even protect his own mother? Did she not die at the hands of a dangerous blood mage? Perhaps I am mistaken.”

 

Gabriel threw up his hands in frustration. “Gah! He was a necromancer! Learn the difference!”

 

She glared at him. “And  _ just  _ how might you know that?”

 

Gabriel got in her face, which required standing on his tiptoes. Wow, he never realized just how tall she was.  _ Gabe, you say that as though most humans aren’t taller than you. Deal with it _ . “I read.” He rubbed his temples. “I am not solving this for you. It’s not my job, and I have somewhere to be.” He shook his head as he walked away, mood dampened.

 

As he opened the door to Fenris’ house, he found his recently soured mood brightening. “Fennigan, Fenito! My sun and stars! I come bearing gifts!” He called out, walking into the main room from the foyer. When he received no response, he climbed the stairs, hoping to find him taking a well-earned nap. A dreamy sigh escaped Gabriel’s lips as he thought of the way Fenris looked as he slept. Adorable was the first word that came to mind, especially when he first awoke. Maybe Gabriel would even get a quick snuggle.

 

However, when he neared the top step, he heard Aveline’s voice. “Not from what I could tell.”

 

“I need to know if it’s a trap!” Gabriel entered Fenris’ bedroom just in time to see Fenris slam his fists into the table.

 

“I did what I could. The rest is up to you.” She looked at Gabriel as she walked out. “You deal with him. I’ve had enough for today.”

 

Gabriel waited for her footsteps to recede before closing the distance between Fenris and himself. “Is something wrong?”

 

Fenris took a deep breath, his anger abating. “It’s my sister. Hadriana was telling the truth. I looked into it.”

 

“From this far south? Do you have a spy network I don’t know about?”

 

“No, but Varric does,” he chuckled. “He has connections in Qarinus. His cousin’s widow is a Magister. She was able to help.”

 

“And that doesn’t bother you that you needed to seek help from a Magister?”

 

“Varric vouched for her. I trust him. Anyway, Varania is not a slave, just as Hadriana said. She’s a tailor.”

 

Gabriel’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of tailors. Asha made you something. Hold still.”

 

Fenris furrowed his brows but obliged as Gabriel draped the cloak around his shoulders.

 

“It took a lot of coin, but she agreed to come meet with me. She’ll be at the Hanged Man for a week.”

 

Gabriel pulled the cloak’s hood up over Fenris’ head, positioning it so the tips of his ears fit through the little slits Asha had made in the hood. “Awww, Fen-Fen, you’re adorable. Look at how cute your ears are sticking up through the hood,” he cooed, guiding Fenris towards the mirror in the corner of his room. He stood up on his toes so he could kiss the tips of Fenris’ ears. “You look handsome.”

 

Undeterred, Fenris continued. “It just seems too easy, that she would agree to meet and there would be no bumps in the road at all.”

 

“You’re worried about it being a trap.”

 

“Wouldn’t you be?” His posture sagged in defeat. “I know at some point I have to quit thinking everyone is going to betray me, quit looking behind me every ten steps, but this feels off. The more I start to believe Danarius isn’t behind this the more I realize he must be.” 

 

Gabriel ran his hands down the outsides of Fenris’ arms, and back up again. “Breathe, Fen. If it  _ is _ a trap, I won’t let him take you, won’t let him touch you.”

 

“I know,” Fenris said, cupping his cheek, “but you risk too much for me. He’s a magister of considerable skill, and I don’t want you to get hurt. I would like you to come with me though. It’s all I ask.”

 

Gabriel covered Fenris’ hand upon his cheek with his own. “If it stops him from taking you it would be worth it, and of course I will come.”

 

“It means a lot to me.” Fenris leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “I like the cloak. It fits well. Did you choose the material? The purple silk is a nice touch.”

 

“I chose that. I know how much you like purple, not that you’d ever let anyone know. Asha chose the black velvet for the outer layer. I know how much you hate being rained on, so I talked to her about making something for you.”

 

“I do. Thank you for thinking of me.”

 

Blood rushed to Gabriel’s cheeks. “I’m... always thinking of you.” He reached into the satchel he’d lain on the table. “The produce merchant had your favorite today.” He smiled, handing Fenris a sack.

 

“Ooh! Apples! Thank you.” He pulled one from the bag and took a bit. Eyes slipping closed, he sighed, content. “This is a great apple. Bite?” he asked, offering it to Gabriel.

 

“So,” Gabriel said after swallowing his mouthful of apple, “I also have something else for you, two things actually.”

 

“To what do I owe this lavish treatment?” he asked, hanging the cloak on the rack in the corner. “Have you decided today is my name day?”

 

“Well no, not unless you wish it to be. I’ll even let you pick your age. Though I must say, you look more like a Firstfall baby than a Bloomingtide.”

 

“Very funny, Gabe. You know I do not know either of those things.”

 

Gabriel rubbed his chin. “I don’t know, I’ve always had the impression that you are older than me.”

 

Fenris raised a brow at him, “Whatever gave you that idea?”

 

“Because so much has happened to you, and it hurts me to think you might be younger than I am. That would mean you escaped when you were so young, that you were even younger when you went through that ritual, and it makes me sick to think it... even if it might be true.” Gabriel rubbed his eyes. Damn it, why did he have to be a crier? “No, this is just because I wanted to… well mostly.” He took a scroll of parchment from the bang, handing it to Fenris. “Go ahead.”

 

Fenris’ eyes scanned the page. How Gabriel loved those eyes! They held the whole world. 

 

“His Lordship, Baron Algernon Ravenswood-Caldwell requests the honor of your attendance at his first annual mas… mascue... I-” Fenris looked at him, green eyes wracked with confusion.

 

“Masquerade. It’s a silly Orlesian word for a fancy party with masks... well, come to think of it, it might just be a fancy party and the masks just happened because they’re Orlesian. Keep reading.”

 

“You may bring a companion in addition to your person,” he read slowly. “I don’t understand. This invitation is addressed to you, Gabriel. It’s not mine.”

 

Gabriel returned the invitation to his bag. “You’re right. It’s not, but I would love it if you would attend with me as my guest.”

 

With furrowed brows, Fenris eyes him a moment. “Are you sure that’s wise, an elf on your arm in front of nobles?”

 

“Not just an elf, a person I lo- care about deeply and want to spend an evening with.”

 

“Aren't you worried about how that will damage your reputation? The Champion of Kirkwall with an Elven pet.”

 

"Well, yes, but then again I'm always worried about something. Why should this be any- Hey! You are not my pet!" Gabriel worried his bottom lip between his teeth. “That’s not what you are to me. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like you were.”

 

“ _ You  _ haven’t, but it’s what they will assume.” 

 

“Then I will correct them. You are a person. You have worth and deserve to be treated with respect. If it’s in my power to stop, I am not going to let someone treat you like anything less than one.”

 

“They’ll talk, regardless.”

 

Gabriel scoffed. “Then let them. Yours is the only opinion I care about. Okay, that is not entirely true. I care what our friends think of us too," he said, emphasizing the word 'our'. "But, if you don’t want to come, I understand. I thought it mig-”

 

Fenris held a finger to Gabriel’s lips. “Of course I will come, though I am afraid I do not own much in the way of finery.”

 

Gabriel laughed, “I do. My mother saw to that when she was still convinced I needed to find a wife. Stop by tomorrow and we’ll find something. Asha can help fit it to you. You’re already wearing a pair of my hose.”

 

“I am not!” Fenris looked down, and then the tips of his ears turned rosy. “So, it would seem, I am. Are we truly so similar in size as well as height?”

 

“My arms are longer.”

 

Fenris side-eyed him. “ _ How _ would you know that?”

 

“Oh you left a tunic at my house by mistake last week, and I put it on by mistake the day after.” He extended his elbow. “Shall we go meet your sister? Maybe she can regale us with embarrassing stories of little Fenris as a child over Wicked Grace tonight.”

 

“No.”

 

As they descended the stairs, Fenris looked at him. “I’m scared, Gabriel. I know I said I wanted to face him, but what if it is a trap? What if I see him and I freeze?”

 

“I will be right beside you.”

 

***

  
  
  


“How’d you like the cloak?” Asha asked when she spotted Gabriel and himself as they walked through the Hightown market for Lowtown. “Were the ear holes in the right place? I can adjust them.”

 

“It fits wonderfully. I like it a lot. Thank you.”

 

Her lilac colored eyes lit up. “Really? That’s wonderful.”

 

“Speaking of clothing and alterations... Do you think you could come over tomorrow and help fit some finery for Fen? He’ll need something for the Ravenswood- Caldwell masquerade.”

 

Asha clasped her hands under her chin in glee, seemingly forgetting the gown they currently held. The gown’s skirt fluttered in the breeze and hit her friend in the face. “Oops. Sorry, Serendipity.” She gave the dress back to the merchant. “Here you are Jean-Luc. Could you hold this one for me? I’ll be by later to purchase it.” She turned to Gabriel. “That’s wonderful! I will. Yes, absolutely, I can come over tomorrow afternoon. I’m free until six. So where are you off to?”

 

Never would Gabriel had guessed when they found Asha wounded and hiding in the shadows during the Qunari invasion, would she be as chatty as she was. He’d never had a conversation with a Qunari or Tal-Vashoth who had said more than two sentences to him unprompted. “Off to the Hanged Man to meet with Fen’s sister.”

 

“That sounds exciting,” she turned to Fenris, brushing her long, blonde braid off her shoulder. “But why do you look like you’re about to be sick?”

 

Gabriel waited for him to answer, but when he remained silent, he filled her in. “And so now he is certain it’s a trap.”

 

“Want back up? We can stop by the Alienage, and I can grab my bow.” The breeze blew a lock of white hair loose of her braid, and she tucked it behind her ear.

 

“But you hate fighting.”

 

Asha shrugged. “You’re my friends. I may hate being told to fight, to kill, but defending people I care about is different.”

 

Fenris nodded. "We would not turn away any help." 

 

Asha bid farewell to Serendipity with a promise to pick her up from the Blooming Rose at the end of her shift to escort her home, and they continued their walk to Lowtown.

 

***

Fenris’ metaphorical hackles rose when he saw both Isabela and Varric loitering outside the tavern, mug of ale in hand for each of them. “Why are you…”

 

“It’s been rented out. Just some elven woman sitting at the table alone. It’s a bit unnerving being among the silence.”

 

“She’s alone? No ominous man with a pretentious beard lurking in the shadows?” Perhaps this was not a trap after all.

 

His stomach flip-flopped when Gabriel reached down and grabbed his hand, giving it a little squeeze. “You can do this. I know you can.” He glanced over at him. The look of encouragement on his face was so earnest it made Fenris ache.  He had to fight the urge to kiss him. Maybe he would after this was over, just gently shove him towards the wall and kiss him senseless.

 

The tavern door had never felt as heavy as it did at that moment.

 

“I don’t believe it. It’s really you. I thought for sure this was a scam.”

 

_ And yet she came anyway. _ Fenris stared at her a good, long minute, committing her features to memory when a hint of recollection dug its way out of the dark recesses of his mind. “Varania? I… remember you. Your hair was longer then, wasn’t red. You wore it in a braid down your back. We played together in the courtyard. You called me…”

 

“Leto. That’s your name. Your hair wasn’t white either.”

 

He ran a hand through his hair. On some instinctual level, he knew that could tell by his eyebrows, but he tried to avoid looking at himself in the mirror much. He always expected someone to appear behind him. And besides what was there to look at anyway? He knew what he looked like, and until Gabriel, Fenris didn’t have anyone for whom he wanted to worry about his appearance anyway.

 

Varania looked down at the table and her knotted fingers. She didn’t speak, just seemed to be weighing her words for a while. She stood and looked away.

 

Still, in his daze, Fenris didn’t notice being dragged back towards the door with haste until Gabriel cut the silence, “We need to leave. You were right. It’s a trap.”

 

“I wish it had been a scam,” she said at last.

 

“What?”

 

Then a voice straight out of every nightmare he’d had since the ritual echoed down the stairs. "Ah Fenris, my little pet. You are nothing if not predictable. Dangle a little bait in front of you and here you are.”

 

It was a trap; he’d been right, and yet it still knocked the wind out of him. To have him right there, flanked by guards, to be called pet  _ again _ like it was nothing. When his breath returned, it was shallow. After all the torment, all the pain and mistreatment... all the terrible things he’d witnessed and been forced to do at Danarius’ bidding…

 

His head swam. 

 

Soft pressure on his sternum moved him backward, and he looked up to see Gabriel step in front of him.  _ No. Don’t do that. He’ll think nothing of killing you to get to me. Gabe move, please. _ He’d tried to say it aloud, but his mouth couldn’t form words. It was as though he was seeing this moment from some other place in time, watching it unfold as an unwilling spectator to his own life.

 

“I’m sorry, Leto.”

 

“Why would you do this?” He finally managed to croak out.

 

“Now, my dear little Fenris. She did what all Imperial Citizens should.” 

 

With every step closer Danarius came, Fenris tried to get his feet to move. When his fear came to a critical point, survival took over, and with his survival instincts came anger, deflection… to hurt before he could be hurt first. “Look what you did to me! I never wanted these! But you will not kill me to get them back!”

 

“You know so very little." That laugh. That sadistic laugh that always made bile rise in his throat.

 

“And this, Champion of Kirkwall is your new master? Funny, I thought he’d be taller.”

 

“Fenris is a person, not property!” Gabriel spat at him, pure hatred laced in every word.

 

“Oh, that sounds like a bit of jealousy. That’s only natural. He is most talented isn’t he?”

 

He’d had enough. “Silence, Danarius!”

 

“That’s Master to you. What do you say, Champion? Might we come to an arrangement? I will make it worth your while. What is it you desire: Wealth, power, something greater? I have all at my disposal. All you have to do is hand him over.”

 

For a moment, the terror that Gabriel would be tempted by the rewards dangling in front of him. Foolish, he knew, but every one had a price.

 

Thankfully, Gabriel didn’t let him worry about it for long, “There is nothing you could offer,  _ nothing,  _ that would make me let you take him.”

 

The burn and ache which always flared whenever he drew on his markings for power didn’t even register, he was that angry, that terrified. If they lost this fight, his friends would be dead and he’d be back under Danarius’ thumb once more. No, they couldn’t lose. He wouldn’t allow it.

 

In battle, he often saw things with perfect clarity, able to plan several steps ahead. Not this time. His mind was clouded by rage, fear, haunted by memories he’d tried to flee. Whereas before, he kept tabs on where his friends or allies were during the fight, now he’d lost them in a blue, lyrium haze. He brought his sword down time and time again, waiting for a lull in the fray so he could regain bearings.

 

The only thing he managed to stay aware of was Danarius’ voice as he commanded his guards, called for shades and demons. Coward. Never could fight his own battles. 

 

When Fenris cut down yet another rage demon, a lull came over the tavern. It was enough to bring his mind back into it. With a quick glance around, he saw the dozen or so bodies that now littered the floor of the Hanged Man. Thankfully, none of them were those of his friends. Yet, nowhere could he find Gabriel. Had he become so desperate to save Fenris that he’d resorted to blood magic and turned himself into an abomination just to keep him safe? Maker, he hoped not.

 

A new wave of shades manifested from out of the floor. This time, his mind was clear, and he heard Bianca’s familiar chug as Varric fired bolts. He heard the whistle of Asha’s flying arrows and the zing of Isabela’s blades deflecting against metal armor. A shade shuffled towards him, one he cut down easily. The clang of his sword striking the floor at the end of his swing could only just be heard over the din of the fight. One sound was missing. He’d yet to hear shattering glass or a crackle of lightning. There were no moans of the dead with the corpses on the floor coming back to life. There was no splash of acid.

 

Where was Gabriel?

 

The longer the fight went on without being able to find him, the worse Fenris felt. The thought that he’d led him to the slaughter, flooded unbidden into his mind. If something had happened to Gabriel and Fenris somehow managed to win this fight, it would gut him. Could he survive losing him? The closer they became, the less likely the answer to that question would be yes. 

 

Though he’d love to give himself over to the rampant worry coursing through his veins, at that moment he couldn’t.

 

He turned and felt the immediate weight of a crushing spell fall upon him. Unable to move, all he could do was stare at the sneer upon Danarius’ face and match that expression with one of equal vitriol.

“Now, now, don’t struggle, Fenris. It will only compress stronger, suck the breath out of. Surely you remember this spell was... how I broke your spirit and turned you into the warrior you are.”

 

All he could hear now was the blood pounding in his ears. So, at first, he missed it when the smoke grenade collided with Danarius’ chest. And then…

 

The spell shattered; Fenris could breathe once more. Danarius lurched forwards, the immense pain etched deep into his features. The points of two daggers stuck out of his chest, blood dripping down to the floor. It was the opening Fenris needed. Lyrium flared and cast Danarius in an ominous blue before Fenris’s fist plunged into his chest. “You are no longer my master.” Danarius fell to the floor, Gabriel’s knives still sticking out from his back. 

 

He and Gabriel shared a look. They’d made it. Fenris was free, truly free.

 

Before he could let himself bask in how that felt, there was one loose end to tie. Varania.

 

“I had no choice”

 

“We always have a choice!”

 

“Leto-”

 

“That is  _ not _ my name!” He pulled his fist back ready to “How could you do that? Do you know what he did to me?”

 

“Fenris, stop! Just let her go,” Gabriel pleaded with him. “You don’t have to kill her.”

 

“Why not? It’s not like she wasn’t ready to see me killed. All she is another pawn of the magisters.”

 

“She’s your family.”

 

He stared at her, lip curled in fury. “No. She’s not.” 

 

“He was right. How little you know. You say you didn’t want those markings, but that’s not true. You competed for them like some prized Gladiator. This skinny teenager who won through determination. Some competitors asked for riches, but all you wanted as a boon was for mother and me to be freed. I’ll tell you now. That was no boon. The things I had to do to survive. At least as slaves, we had a roof over our heads. We were fed. You were a naive kid then, and you’re still one now. But at least you got the better end of the deal.”

 

Fenris dropped his fist and with it his head. He was tired, exhausted from the anger and hatred that had dogged his life for so long. Hearing this turmoil was of his own making should have hurt worse than it did. He just...didn’t want to deal with it anymore. But there was no way he could just let her leave it like that. “Somehow, I have a feeling what you did to survive and what I went through are probably similar,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t remember you, don’t remember Mother. I didn’t know my name. I don’t even know how old I am. I’m not sure what hurts worse, that you sold me out to that horrible man or that all I did was for nothing.” He rubbed his temples. “I would have given you everything. Go. Just go.”

 

Rather than argue, she ducked around him and ran for the door. “Thirty-one. Your birthday is the seventeenth of Cassus. Every year until she died mother lit a candle for you. I might have resented you, but she never could.”

 

When the door to the Hanged Man swung shut, he leaned against the wall, sinking down to the floor. Though he felt his eyes grow damp with unshed tears, he willed them to remain at bay. “What a fool I am. All I wanted was to help make their lives better, and she said she wished they'd remained slaves. She hates me. What was I thinking trying to reclaim my past? Why would I want to remember a past where I was a slave? My mother is dead, and my sister hates me. I have nothing; I’m alone.” He drew his knees to his chest, resting his elbows upon them. His head weighed ten tons in his hands, and he longed for the silence of his house.

 

His armor shifted when someone sat down beside him, and he didn’t need to look to know who it was. A heavy arm, clad in leather settled around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Gabriel’s thumb stroked the bare skin at his neck. He melted into the touch. “That’s not true. You have me,” he said, his words settling into Fenris’ chest like a burning ember, “and I’m not going anywhere. You’re not a fool for wanting to remember.” Gabriel took Fenris’ hand in his, lacing their fingers together. He brought their joined hands to his lips and kiss the back of Fenris’ hand. “Let’s get you home. Come on. I’ll take care of you.”

 

Fenris chuckled out a wet laugh. “That’s my line.”

 

Gabriel stood and pulled him to his feet. Unable to catch himself, Fenris stumbled into his chest. This time, when he looked at him and felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him, he didn’t hold back. He relished the feel of Gabriel’s lips against his. Though it wasn’t often that they kissed, Fenris still working through things, each time felt like the first. Still, remembering where they were, he pulled back, a sheepish grin tugging on his lips and a flush blooming on his cheeks.

 

Behind them, Varric cleared his throat. Fenris looked over his shoulder to see him getting out his “So is this a recent development?”

 

Gabriel’s hearty laugh filled all the empty spaces both in the tavern and inside Fenris' head, in his heart. He felt warmth; he felt loved. 

 

Fenris was quick to answer before conclusions could be drawn. “No. We've been together for three years.”

 

“Where the Void have you all been?” Gabriel asked through his laughter.

 

“I am shocked!” Varric covered his heart. “You kept this a secret from me, your best friend?”

 

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his nose. “We walked in here holding hands? What did you think it was?”

 

“To be honest,” Varric said, “moral support.”

 

***

 

Gabriel sighed as he let the feeling of complete contentment wash over him. It had begun to rain on their way back from the Hanged Man, and despite having a perfectly good cloak to protect him from the rain, Fenris had forgotten to bring it. By the time they arrived at Fenris’ home, they were both soaked. If someone were to walk in the front door right then, they would surely get the wrong idea judging by the trail of sodden clothes leading up to Fenris’ bedroom. Their incorrect assumption would continue right into the bedroom where they lay upon his bed in their smalls.

 

The crackling fire blanketed the room in a soft glow, and Gabriel could not remember the last time he was so calm. However poorly the situation with Varania ended, the fact of the matter was that Danarius was dead, and Fenris was free. No more would he watch over his shoulder dreading the day his luck finally ran out and he’d have to face his former master. He’d still glance behind him often, but that would be more out of habit and hypervigilance. 

 

Gabriel stroked his hand up and down the bare skin of Fenris’ back. Certain that Fenris had fallen asleep while lying atop his chest, Gabriel couldn’t move, not that he wanted to. It was quiet, comforting, and serene. When his hand moved too close to Fenris’ side, he twitched in Gabriel’s arms and lifted his head.

 

“I’m... ticklish.”

 

“Oh  _ are  _ you?” This time his actions were deliberate, and he gave a gentle poke to Fenris’ side. This, in turn, led to a brief tickle fight with the pair of them rolling around on the bed. A fight that ended when Fenris flipped Gabriel onto his back, straddled his hips and pinned his wrists to the bed. Gabriel took a shuddering breath. “Maybe you could not do that. You probably remember how much I...  _ like _ it. Unless that is, you wanted to. Then by all means, please continue.”

 

Fenris leaned down so that his face was mere inches from Gabriel’s. “Have you finished tickling me?”

 

“Hey, you got in some good jabs too, but yes. You looked like you were having a good time. Sorry if it was not the case. I just... enjoy hearing you laugh. It’s infectious.”

 

“You needn’t worry. It was a good distraction." Fenris paused as though Gabriel's words finally registered. "Wait. You like my laugh?”

 

Gabriel nodded, doing his best to will his mind to think the most innocent thoughts. “But really, you should let go of my hands.”

 

Fenris gave him a tiny, crooked smile and released his arms. He didn’t roll off him though. Instead, he stretched out, in much the same position he’d been before, bracketing Gabriel’s head with his arms. Fenris stroked his cheek and pressed their foreheads together. “Earlier, during the fight... I couldn’t find you. I was in this frenzy and could only see the enemy in front of me. But there was a lull in the fight after that first round of demons. I looked around, and you were nowhere... not even a body on the floor. It terrified me. I thought... what if you’d called to a demon to help us fight and you’d been struck down. I... I-”

 

Gabriel pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Even if I had, I doubt it would have helped me much. What’s the point of making a deal with a demon when all they’d manage to help you do is probably a chain lightning spell?”

 

Fenris chuckled and it reverberated through Gabriel’s chest. “I suppose you’re right.” He lifted his head to look down at him. “But until you popped up behind Danarius I thought you were gone and it was my fault. If we had not been in the middle of a battle, I am sure that I would have been a mess trying to find you. Was that how you felt after I left that night?”

 

Gabriel averted his eyes. “Yeah.”

 

“Hey, look at me,” he said, cupping Gabriel’s cheeks and turning his gaze to meet his own. “I understand now, and I am sorry I made you feel like that. I promise to never to do that again. It... thinking you were dead somewhere in that tavern, fighting  _ my _ battle... it was a horrible feeling. I should have at least let you know I was unharmed when you came to my door back then.”

 

The smile that tugged at the corners of Gabriel’s lips may have been small, but it was a smile nonetheless. “Let’s make a deal, you and me.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Moving forward, we make an effort to quit regretting things we can’t change. It cannot be healthy for us, and it only makes us sad.”

 

Fenris lowered his lips to Gabriel’s forehead. “I think I can work on that if you can.” He scooted down the bed until he could lay his head on Gabriel’s chest. “Can you do that thing you were doing before?”

 

Gabriel resumed stroking Fenris’ back. “You mean this?”

 

“Yes. Feels nice. I enjoy it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

 

Track Listing: 

          Scene 1: Overture- Black Veil Brides

Skyfall- Vitamin String Quartet

Scene 2: “Better Love”- Hozier

Scene 3: “Sleep Baby Sleep”- Broods

“I cannot believe you made me wear this,” Fenris grumbled, thumbing the tails of the black-ribbon tie which held the mask to his face. They’d been waiting for their introduction to the masquerade for what felt like ages, and there were still at least two dozen couples in front of them.

 

“Why? I think you look wonderful, even if you do not feel the same.  Purple truly is your color,” he said of Fenris’ purple-filigree trimmed black shirt. “I am amazed Asha could create this so quickly rather than simply alter one of mine.”

 

Fenris raised an eyebrow at him, though he knew his mask obscured the gesture. “You are referring to my kurtassus?” He noticed Gabriel’s confused expression. “My tunic. She made it in the style of a Tevinter kurtassus. You stepped out of the room as she took my measurements. Asha asked if I could have any style of finery what would I choose.”

 

“I am surprised you would want anything that reminded you of Tevinter.”

 

“Ah yes, so it would seem. Though I have a strong disdain for their magisters and the way they run things, believe it or not, this style of tunic is familiar to me. Before I escaped, this is what I would wear when not in armor. I find them comfortable and the trim beautiful. The sandals are an added benefit.”

 

Shocked, Gabriel looked down. “Oh sweet Andraste, you  _ are _ wearing shoes. I have never seen you in shoes.”

 

Fenris covered his mouth to silence his chuckle. “I don’t care for shoes, namely I detest hose that encapsulate your feet. I do not like having my toes covered. I merely hadn’t found a pair of suitable sandals this far south.”

 

Gabriel snaked an arm around his waist, pulling him close so he could kiss his cheek that hadn’t been covered by the mask. “Like I said, you look wonderful. The mask is an exceptional touch.”

 

“The mask is  _ precisely _ why I asked the question. Did you have to choose a wolf mask? I do appreciate it is black and without whiskers. But a wolf, really, Gabriel?”

 

“Yes, yes I did. Danarius is dead, and since you could have chosen to call yourself whatever you wanted, yet stuck with Fenris, I thought it was a good time for you to…”

 

“What?”

 

Gabriel straightened his doublet and grinned. “Reclaim your name, Fenny.”

 

Fenris tried for menacing growl but it came out more of a disgruntled grumble.

 

“That’s the spirit!” He tossed his head back in laughter, sending his lion mask off-kilter. “You’re doing great, darling.”

 

“Darling, is it? Whatever happened to Fen, Fen-Fen, Fenny and all the other iterations of my name you prefer to call me?”

 

Gabriel pulled him close again, his lips a hair’s breadth from Fenris’ ear. “Darling, my sweet, love, dearest cinnamon, my heartroot.”

 

“Heartroot? I admit I have never heard that one.”

 

“No? Must be a Ferelden thing. But they’re all true. If... they bother you, say the word. ”

 

Fenris stepped back, bidding Gabriel to turn around so that he could tighten and straighten his mask. “You needn’t stop. I enjoy them. I must ask, before we enter the ballroom and I can no longer hear myself think. Why a lion and not the obvious choice of hawk mask?” His fingers pulled the golden ribbon into a secure not. “There. That should be better.”

 

“My father always called me his little lionheart. When I asked why he didn’t call Carver that, he said it was easy to be brave when you weren’t afraid. It was far more difficult to be courageous in the face of constant fear. “

 

“I’m sure your brother has things he fears. Everyone does.”

 

“Yes. He’s terrified of the open water. Though Bethany and I were proficient at it early, swimming never seemed to click for Carver. The boat ride across the Waking Sea was horrible for him. He’s simply much better at hiding it than I am.”

 

The line in front of them continued to move. Soon it would be time for their introduction. 

 

“I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for helping me improve my dancing skills. I am sure I would simply flounder otherwise. Even the dances we probably won’t do here. I am grateful.”

 

“You are most welcome.”

 

The Herald turned to them. “Good Evening, Champion. How would like your introduction made?”

 

As Gabriel filled the man in, Fenris took in the room ahead of them. The nobility of Kirkwall intermingled with nobles from other lands. He counted several Orlesian couples, their overly ostentatious manner of dress was a dead giveaway. From somewhere near him, he could hear Antivan being spoken, so it followed some had come from quite a distance.

 

Gabriel linked elbows with him. “Our turn.”

 

“Now presenting: Serah Gabriel Hawke, Adventurer of the Deep Roads, vanquisher of the Qunari, savior and Champion of Kirkwall. Accompanying him: Serah Fenris Freeman of Kirkwall,  Consort of the Champion of Kirkwall and veteran of the Qunari Invasion.”

 

It wouldn’t take heightened elven hearing to pick up on some of the comments falling from the tongues of other guests. Things like, “They will just given anyone a title these days won’t they?” or “Quite audacious, publicly declaring a male lover,” and lest he forget  “An elven consort? How scandalous!” 

 

Fenris fought his scowl as they crossed to ballroom floor to greet the host. He could show them scandalous. How about giving their hearts a good squeeze in front of everyone? How was that for scandalous?

 

“Welcome, Champion. I am pleased you accepted the invitation, and brought your…” The Baron looked at Fenris, clearly unsure what to make of him. Though half his face lay hidden, the way his lips curled was an unmistakable expression of derision, “friend.”

 

“Honored to attend, Baron Ravenswood-Caldwell. If you please, though he is more than my friend. If he wasn’t I wouldn’t have had him introduced as such.”

 

In what Fenris would soon realize was the first of many instances throughout the ball, Gabriel nudged his side, gentle, nigh imperceptible to the other guests. Unsure, at first, as to its meaning, he took a guess, and moved them off the floor. At the top of the stairs leading up from the dance floor, he turned to him. “What?”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“The elbow thing? What did you mean for me to have done?”

 

Gabriel smiled. “Exactly what you did. Please, by all means, lead me where you’d like in here, and I will gladly follow.”

 

Fenris moved to rub his forehead but remembered the mask. “Are you sure that is wise? Think of how an elf leading you around the room will affect your reputation. Did you hear the way they responded to my introduction?”

 

“I find I don’t much care what they will think or say. I didn't tell him to call you my consort, by the way. He was displeased with my choice of words."

 

"Which were?"

 

"Lover. Anyway, where next?”

 

Fenris stomach grumbled, and so, he found the nearest plate of hors d’oeuvres. “Blech, fish. Why must it always be fish? I detest the stuff.”

 

Gabriel’s hand at the small of his back was so warm, he could feel it through the several layers of clothing he currently wore. “Wait here. I’ll return with something better.”

 

Fenris tried to ignore the whispers and pointed stares of the surrounding nobles that he could see somehow  _ despite _ the masks. It was hard. Yes, he was an elf. As for why in the world that should still matter, it was beyond him.

 

“It’s cute that he calls his pet elf a consort, but why did the Champion have to bring him? It’s not like he belongs among us. However will I distinguish him from the other servants?”

 

“Don’t mean to intrude,” Fenris looked up from the offensive, fishy snacks to see Gabriel addressing a few guests. “He is not my pet or  _ anyone’s _ pet. He is a person and I request you either treat him as one, or please keep your comments to yourself. As for your question, I brought him because I wanted to. Couldn’t imagine attending without him. He owns a larger home in Hightown than I do, and thusly he most certainly belongs. If your first thought when you see an elf is to assume they are someone’s servant, then perhaps you should think about why that is.” He turned to Fenris and handed him a glass of red wine. “Here you are, love. Where to next? Lead the way.”

 

Were he in less hostile company, Gabriel excluded, Fenris might have stood there with his jaw hanging open. Though they moved away from that judgmental group of nobles, it seemed their sentiment was shared by most in attendance. Yet, every time they found themselves met with such words directed at Fenris, Gabriel was quick to address them, every response made with such civility it would make quite the scene for anyone to counter him. 

 

After several of these encounters, however, Fenris needed to know something. “Why are you being so calm with them?”

 

“Kill them with kindness, as Bethany used to say. And if that doesn’t work, well…” he patted his belt. “Oh would you look at that! I seem to have left all my social mortification grenades at home.”

 

Fenris smirked. “Ah yes, Lord Brambleton shall never live down that time you made him soil himself in public.”

 

“The bastard had it coming.” Gabriel tucked a lock of hair behind Fenris’ ear. “The nerve of him, calling you that. Causing the man to piss himself seemed the least I could do. Though, admittedly, he deserved a lot worse.”

 

“Would you care dance?” He offered Gabriel his hand.

 

“I would indeed.”

 

As they descended the stairs down to the floor, they took their places beside each other. The dancing pairs moved first to the left, rose up on their toes and then sashayed to the right. When it came time to take steps forward, Gabriel turned to him. “Which one was this one again? The Pavane?”

 

“Courante.”

 

“I didn’t much care for this one.”

 

He squeezed Gabriel’s hand. “It’s not one of my favorites either.”

 

“It’s so… I don’t know... pretentious.”

 

With a chuckle, Fenris said, “Most court dances usually are. It’s the country and low dances that are the fun ones. With any luck the musicians will play something lively soon.” His plié looked far better than some of these nobles who had been attending dances like this one for most of their adult lives. And Varric thought he’d been joking when he said he danced alone in his house to pass time. Well, he was joking that time, but it was something he did often. Of the many burdensome and horrid things Danarius had him trained to do, being taught to dance was not one of them. He’d always found it enjoyable, and it had improved his combat skills in more than one area.

 

When the song ended and polite applause followed, Fenris expected Gabriel to beat a hasty retreat off the floor. He always loved it when something or  _ someone _ surprised him in a good way. 

 

“I enjoy dancing with you, Fen.”

 

“More like enjoy being seen with me,” he joked.

 

Gabriel’s upper lip curled into small scowl. “Who wouldn’t? You are a  _ gem _ far more glorious than any worn in this room. But that isn’t what I meant.”

  
  
  


The next song started and though the music had a quicker tempo than the one before, Fenris had to fight not to grumble under his breath. The Sarabande. He hated this one. So much twirling and teasing, but never touching one’s dance partner. Come to think of it, what was it with the dances from the South? So many of them were all about showing off to the crowd and ignoring your partner. That wasn’t what dancing should be, at least not to him.

 

Perhaps he was simply put out over spending the dance with Gabriel just out of reach.

 

“Remember when Merrill once told you to be careful about looking so cross because your face might one day stay that way?” Gabriel asked, splaying his palm to Fenris’. So close, mere inches and he could clasp his hand again. 

 

“What of it?”

 

“You’re making that face again. Well, from what I can tell anyway. This one, the... Sarabande right? Not one of your favorites?”

 

“Not in the least. At least in the Courante I can hold your hand.”

 

“Aww, Fenny,” he cooed spinning away, “tell me how you truly feel.”

 

He labored on through the remainder of the dance and pulled Gabriel away from the floor before another miserable court dance played. 

 

“Eager to get me alone are you?” Gabriel joked.

 

The question caught him by such surprise that all he could do was laugh. “Yes, but not at this current moment. Come, let’s watch all these ponces twirl around the floor doing everything they can to remain as far away from one another while maintaining minimum contact.” 

 

They found an empty place at the railing overlooking the floor. 

 

“Your...companion dances beautifully, Champion. Tell me, how long did it take you to teach him? I can’t get my elven servants to learn any social graces. I was beginning to think their race was incapable of such things.”

 

He felt Gabriel stiffen beside him, and he waited for a response. Instead, Gabriel looked at him and made a slight tilt of his head toward the offending nobleman. Then he gave Fenris a subtle nod. Ah…

 

“Perhaps, they require a different teacher, one with more... _b_ __e_ nignitas _ .” He watched as the man tried to make sense of the casual way Fenris slipped Antivan into the conversation.

 

“His race, elves, are capable of far more than any of you give them credit for. How poorer your lives must be without being able to call one a friend. You really do know so little. And it may interest you to know it was  _ he _ who taught  _ me _ how to dance.” Gabriel turned away from the man without giving him another glance. 

 

Unhappy to be ignored or merely realizing conversation was no longer wanted, the man grumbled as he walked away. Gabriel reached out and straightened the sash draped over Fenris’ shoulder. “My patience for these people and the way they treat you is almost gone.”

 

“Mine too.” When the musicians began the next song, Fenris’ ears perked up. He knew this song, or at least the style. It belonged to a dance he’d learned while living among the Fog Warriors, and the best part?

 

He knew with absolute certainty that no one else in the room besides the two of them would know what to do with it. “Come. Hurry.” He tugged Gabriel’s hand and they descended the stairs with great haste. If his memory was correct, they would have another ten seconds before the music truly started. “Gabe, remember the _alttanghu_?”

 

“Hmm. Was that the one from Seheron? The one that...oh,” a purple flush up from the collar of his jacket and up his neck dark enough to be seen despite his russet skin. “I…” He swallowed hard. “Um... definitely liked  _ that _ one.”

 

“Follow my lead, and you will enjoy it even more with music.” Fenris took only a moment to enjoy the blush Gabriel’s skin, before giving him a crooked grin, one almost, for lack of a better word, wolfish. 

 

The area of the dance floor farthest away from where they’d been watching the dancers remained empty. It was just the right size for them. He stood close behind Gabriel, dare he say scandalously close, waiting for the uptick in the tempo. And there it was. He wrapped an arm around his waist and took his free hand. 

 

When he’d told Gabriel years ago, the Fog Warriors had been free in their affections, that had included their dancing. Though he’d lacked any experience in matters at the time, he’d recognized the pure passion in the dance right away. Back then, he hadn’t given much thought to ever feeling that way for or dancing that way with another person, but now... the music filled his ears, made his chest swell... his blood sing. The desire to have that connection with someone else, with  _ Gabriel _ . It overwhelmed his senses in the best way. If this was as though having all those eyes on them fueled him on. 

 

Fenris guided him forward a few steps, and with lips almost touching the shell of Gabriel’s ear, he said, “Was it this part you liked best?”

 

Gabriel shook his head.

 

Fenris broke the hold and twirled him around. To his surprise, Gabriel remembered the pivot and little whip kick of his leg backwards. “You remembered the embellishments, the  _ saht rakla.  _ Might I say, despite your comments to the contrary, you were an excellent pupil.”

 

He pulled Gabriel back into a close hold, hand splayed on the small of his back. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched a few nobles’ expression turn to those of shock that said, ‘How  _ dare _ the Champion allow an  _ elf _ to lead him in a dance.’ He may have sent them a smug grin while he spun them around in an intricate pattern of steps, and by may, he definitely did.

 

A tap to Gabriel’s elbow signaled to go up onto the ball of his toes, and Fenris stepped back, pulling just enough for him to lean against his body. “Now,” he whispered inches away from Gabriel’s ear, “we  _ khaima _ ,” he let the end of the world drag on in a purr. “Remember that one?”

 

He watched as Gabriel’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Uh huh.”

 

“Good,” he nipped at Gabriel’s earlobe, and if they hadn’t been as close as they were, he would have missed the whimper that escaped Gabriel’s throat. He made several back-steps across the floor, dragging Gabriel, still pressed tightly against his chest, with him. At the end of the step, he grabbed one of Gabriel’s legs behind the knee and pulled until the knee bent allowing him to bring it up to Fenris’ waist. Then he spun them once more before releasing. “You paid great attention to this dance when I taught you, I see,” he said, not taking his eyes off Gabriel’s

 

“I liked the way you looked at me when you taught it. It... made it memorable.”

 

Fenris bent his knees and, reaching down to wrap his arm around the backs of Gabriel’s thighs, lifted him up and spun around several times, making sure to lower him slowly at the end so he almost slid down Fenris’ chest. “And just  _ how  _ did I look at you?”

 

Once Gabriel had both feet planted on the ground again, Fenris once again brought him into a hold, spinning as they danced, feet crossing over one another and each other’s in an way that could easily get tangled if they weren’t paying attention. To people watching, perhaps it looked like they were in danger of tripping over one another, but to Fenris, he knew what he was doing. And for Gabriel? When Fenris had taught him the court dances a few days after receiving the invitation, he found the reason Gabriel had been such an good student was he knew how to give up control of the dance and follow. He did it well then; he was doing excellent now.

 

“You looked like you weren’t sure whether you wanted to manhandle me or devour me,” his neck flushed a dark purple again. Flustered looked good on him.

 

“Maybe,” Fenris said, dipping him, “it’s a little of both.” As he brought him back upright, he stepped to the outside of Gabriel’s legs. “When I step back, bring your right leg between mine and lean into me. Leave your left where it is. Point your toe.”

 

“ _ Tagiraq? _ ”

 

“Yes.” He stepped back as the song drew to a close, and Gabriel followed to the letter. In only a short moment, their noses we almost touching. All he would have to do was move a hair’s breadth to kiss him, but he left him wanting, panting. “I think... it’s time we retire for the evening. Wouldn’t you say?”

 

 

Gabriel had no answer for him, only nodded his head emphatically.

 

***

 

Gabriel hit the bed, bouncing once before Fenris straddled him, pinning him to the mattress. He watched as Fenris shucked his tunic and threw it across the room they’d been given at the Baron’s summer estate, leaving him in only his smalls. When he moved to sit up, Fenris shook a finger in warning as he untied the cravat from around his neck. There was far too much grace in the way he bent forward and caught Gabriel’s hands. 

 

He chased Fenris’ far-too-brief kiss with a whine. After that dance, his blood had been boiling in the best way. All he wanted to do now was to kiss, and touch, and taste. Fenris, however, was making that difficult. Not that he minded at all. Nor did he mind the way the silk scarf felt as Fenris dragged it up and down his arms. It even drew a shiver or two out of him. “You don’t need to tie my wrists, Fen, I’ll be good. I promise, no tickling.”

 

Fenris pitched forward and kissed the hinge of his jaw. “I know you will. I had no intention of tying your hands together.” Gabriel couldn’t see what he was doing, but it sure felt like binding his hands. When Fenris sat back up, Gabriel’s heart stumbled over a few beats at the sight of the smile on his face. 

 

“Maker, that smile could kill me,” he moaned. “Could start and stop wars.”

 

Though he couldn’t be sure if the rosy hue on Fenris’ cheeks was from their activities or blushing, he liked to think it was the latter. “You sure know how to say the right things, Gabe.” He nodded towards Gabriel’s hands.

 

When he pulled his hand back from above his head, his heart stuttered again. Fenris had tied the cravat around his wrist in much the same way he’d tied the red favor around his own. Oh. Emotions overwhelmed him; tears pricked the corners of his eyes. He rubbed the black silk with his fingers before pressing his wrist to his chest.

 

He swallowed hard, eyes closed, wracking his brain for words to say. He opened them when Fenris pitched forward, grabbed his hand and pinned it over his head, doing the same with the other. He intertwined their fingers. Gabriel could have died right then, and he would have been okay with it.

 

Soft lips brushed against his, coaxing them open to slip a tongue between them. When Gabriel canted his hips in an attempt to gain friction, Fenris mimicked him, rolling against him. He trailed a line of kisses from Gabriel’s jaw down his neck to his collarbone, taking skin between his teeth.

 

Gabriel hissed.

 

“Did I hurt you? Was that too much?”

 

He shook his head. “Doesn’t mean I want you to stop.”

 

Fenris rose a brow at him. “Is that so? What if I did something like this?” He leaned forward and nipped at Gabriel’s lower lip, earning a blissful moan. “Or this?” He released one of Gabriel’s hands and enmeshed it in his hair, giving it a quick tug.

 

A needy whine. That’s the best Gabriel could do. Fenris had rendered him speechless. Still, he managed to pant, “Anything, everything. I’m yours.” 

 

Fenris dragged his nails down Gabriel’s chest. That’s it, he was trying to kill him, Gabriel decided. Fenris pressed a finger to his lips.

 

“Not today,” he said, a devilish smirk playing on his lips.

 

Oh. He'd said that aloud. Before Fenris could move his finger, Gabriel sucked it into his mouth.

 

This time it was Fenris’ turn to groan. He pulled his finger from Gabriel’s mouth, but trailed it along his lower lip. Though hardly any space separated their bodies, it didn’t stop him from reaching between them to wrap his hand around Gabriel. 

 

Fenris took both of Gabriel’s wrist in one hand and pressed them to the bed above Gabriel’s head, pushing them into the mattress: a silent instruction to keep them there. When he moved down Gabriel’s body, he peppered his chest with kisses.

 

Thoughts fled Gabriel’s mind when Fenris took him into his mouth, and his brain didn’t come back to him until he heard the unscrewing of a lid, felt Fenris pressing a finger into him. Even then it wasn’t as though any of the thoughts racing around in his head made any sense. 

 

What was with all his whining tonight? Why couldn’t he moan or groan? No, he had to whine like a kitten. Fenris hushed him when he added another finger, rubbing his hand down Gabriel’s stomach, and swallowed him down.

 

“Sweet Andraste, just fuck me.” At least that time was a groan. 

 

A pop echoed in the room as Fenris pulled off him and clicked his tongue. “So needy.”

 

“Please, Fen, Fen-Fen, heartroot, please.”

 

The soft chuckle that escaped Fenris’ throat reverberated up his body. Fenris sat up, tugging him into his lap. When in the Void had he shed his smallclothes? “Well, who am I to refuse such an eloquent request?” Beside him sat the small pot of balm, and he slicked himself up. 

 

Gabriel lifted up just enough to position himself and sank down until he’d taken Fenris in as deep as he could. He dropped his head to Fenris’ shoulder, with a full body shudder.

 

“Shh, shh,  _ carissimus mea _ ,” Fenris mumbled into the skin of Gabriel’s neck. “I have you.”

 

***

 

Gabriel came down to the sensation of soft fingers caressing his face. His eyes closed in exhaustion; he was well and truly spent.

 

“It’s a bit cold, sorry,” Fen said before dragging the damp cloth over him.

 

Gabriel shivered. “You weren’t kidding.”

 

“I could warm some water by the fire.” When Fenris moved to stand, Gabriel caught his waist. “Thank you, it’s fine.” He grabbed Fenris’ hand and brought it to his lips. “That would just take longer before you came to bed.”

 

Fenris returned the cloth to the washbasin on the dressing table. As he crossed the room, his foot caught on his discarded tunic and eyed it for a long moment.

 

“If you want to put something on for bed, you know I won’t mi-”

 

Fenris looked up at him, and Gabriel saw dampness in his eyes. Then, because his brain was a rotten bastard, it went immediately went to work thinking the worst. Thoughts like, ‘He’s going to leave again,’ and ‘You must be terrible in bed if you made him cry from how bad it was,’ raced swift as an arrow through his mind. He sat up and rubbed his temples. Why did he always think the worst? “Is something bothering you?”

 

The panic he was trying to hide must have shown on his face, because Fenris turned around, and dug in his satchel for something before hurrying back to the bed. He cupped Gabriel’s cheek.

 

“No, nothing like last time, and even if a whole lifetime of memories came rushing back now, there is nowhere else I want to be in this moment.”

 

Gabriel took a deep breath, counting to four before taking twice that long to exhale.

 

“I know how your mind likes to worry. It’s just that, well... I have something I wanted to give you, and I happened to remember it at that exact moment. I…”

 

Gabriel looked down at Fenris’ shaking hands and covered them with his own. “Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together. Yes?”

 

That tiny smile Gabriel loved so much graced Fenris’ face. “Together. I don’t know how you did it, Gabriel, but you gave me a home, and family, made me feel safer than I think I’ve ever felt and-” He sighed and licked his lips. “I had these made. There’s one for you and one for me. May I have your wrist?”

 

“Which one?”

 

“Whichever you like.” Fenris unwrapped the cloth bundle to reveal two bracelets, one red and one black. He fastened the black one around Gabriel’s wrist, giving the red one to Gabriel for him to do the same. When he’d finished, Fenris caressed Gabriel’s cheek. “I used a section of the favor you gave me for mine, and a strip of silk from my favorite undertunic fo yours. I just thought, all this time I’ve been wearing yours, bought me a place to live, gave me a name, helped me be free...truly free, and I’ve given you  _ nothing _ .”

 

A tear escaped from Fenris eye and rolled down his cheek. Gabriel dashed it away before Fenris could. “That is not true. You’ve given me so much. I don’t recall anyone else staying with me after my mother died to make sure I ate. Nursed me back to health after the duel with the Arishok. Gifts don’t have to be material.”

 

Fenris brushed Gabriel’s hair back off his shoulders. “May I?” When Gabriel nodded, Fenris grabbed the discarded hair ribbon from the pillow and tied back Gabriel’s now long hair. “I know that. I wanted to do this.”

 

Gabriel snagged him around the waist pulling him to stand in between his legs, embracing him tightly as he looked up. “Thank you. I love it.” 

 

Fenris cradled his face between both hands. “If there is a future to be had, I will walk into it gladly by your side.”

 

Before he could stop himself, Gabriel blurted, “You know what that sounds like right?”

 

“I’m aware, yes,” Fenris said, his eyes burning into Gabriel’s, but showing no hint of discomfort.

 

He licked his lips. “Is that what you want? If so, absolutely. If not-”

 

Fenris fell silent for a long minute before replying, “Not quite. Not... yet.”

 

Gabriel released the breath he’d been holding. “Oh, Maker, yes. When, if, you ever want to, yes.” He rested his forehead against Fenris’ chest. “I don’t need that you know. So long as you know you have me, my heart belongs to you.”

 

“And mine to you.”

 

Gabriel, hands still around Fenris’ waist, scooted back on the bed, pulling him along until they both tumbled onto the mattress. Though it took some work, he maneuvered them to their pillows and under the covers. He rolled onto his back, waiting for Fenris to roll away and fall asleep the way he usually did when they shared a bed. Of course, there were exceptions to every rule, and now happened to be one of those exceptions. Instead, Fenris lay on top of him; they were chest to chest, bare skin to bare skin. Such a simple thing, but so intimate. Fenris rested his head over Gabriel’s heart.

 

With a smile, Gabriel ran his hands through Fenris’ hair, trailed his fingers along the lyrium marks on the back of his neck before stopping. “Sorry, I didn’t even think about it. Does that bother you when I touch your markings? Does it hurt?”

 

“No,” Fenris mumbled, “not when you do it. Please continue.”

 

That was a huge step for Fenris, and Gabriel was not one to turn away a good thing when it was handed to him. So he didn’t stop at the back of Fenris’ neck, tracing the line that ran down his spine, along the backs of his ribs, his hip bones. It didn’t take long for Fenris’ breath to even out; he’d fallen asleep. Gabriel wrapped his arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

 

Losing his family had taken a lot out of him; all his friends had noticed that, done their best to help abate the feeling of failure. Though their efforts helped to a degree, he still carried the loss with him like a cannonball chained to his ankle. Fenris, however, was the only since his mother’s death who had made him feel like he had a family again. 

 

He held him tighter. They were each other’s family now, and they would build a life,  _ their _ life...together.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the dancing terminology is supposed to be Alsahiria (words made up by me), the language of the Fog Warriors. Except for benignitas- which is Tevene (kindness). If you were curious about the soundtrack, they are dancing to Skyfall.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on Tumblr [Tumblr](https://glittering-darmallon.tumblr.com/)


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